Wednesday morning, I awoke to find the following email from my mom.
It’s 3:40 am, at the Prague airport flying to Amsterdam, then pdx.
This was odd, considering my parents weren’t anywhere near the Czech Republic, unless they’d secretly flown to Europe without telling me. This seemed unlikely, as they’d just returned from a week and a half in Florida and were still adjusting to the time change.
All I could think of saying in response was, Safe travels! To which my mom replied, You just got this??
At least I wasn’t the only one confused! My folks had visited Prague and flown from Amsterdam to Portland…on November 5, 2023. Which means my mom’s email took 381 days to reach my inbox.
Highly unusual in the digital age, huh? A physical letter can get lost in the mail, but at worst, an email might end up in a spam (mmm!) folder. Why this one suddenly appeared, without manual intervention, nearly 13 months late is a mystery.
Or further evidence of a glitch in the matrix.
Welp, I guess it’s winter now.
Not that I’m complaining in the least. If you’ve read me for any length of time, my love for snow should come as no surprise. Tara, on the other hand? She has always – to put it charitably – given it more of a chilly reception. You’re damn right that pun was intended.
Which is why a recent conversation threw me for a loop.
“Sure would be nice if we got some winter weather!” she exclaimed a few weeks ago, when the thermometer nudged above 75° the day before Halloween. Hell, it barely even felt like fall at that point.
“I agree!” I agreed, and then added, “By the way, what have you done with my wife?!”
Despite living in places where the average annual snowfall was measured in dozens of feet, Tara is hardly the snow lover that I am. (Or maybe “dozens of feet” is exactly why she isn’t.) At best, she tolerates the white stuff. Our roles have always been well-defined: I’m the one who camps out at the window and stares lovingly at the falling snow. She’s the one who mocks me for camping out at the window and staring lovingly at the falling snow. So, when she exclaimed, “I wish it would snow!” – with nary a trace of sarcasm – a few weeks ago, I was startled. Either Tara had done a complete one-eighty or she’d been abducted by aliens and replaced with a reasonably accurate but slightly glitchy stand-in.
I actually chuckled, waiting for a punchline that never came. I guess you could call that premature speculation.
“I’m serious!” she insisted. “I can’t wait for it to snow!”
They say couples rub off on each other after awhile, but I never saw this one coming. I was thrilled to learn that my wife suddenly loved snow! I had visions of us holding hands and skipping through winter wonderlands together, maybe in matching snowman sweaters, singing “Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!” at the tops of our lungs while reveling in the majesty of a freshly flocked landscape.
Just as I was really warming up to this scenario, Tara burst my bubble.
“It’s not that I love snow or anything, so quit fantasizing about holding hands and skipping through the stuff wearing matching sweaters!” she warned (and can I just say, it’s uncanny how well she knows me). “But it’s good for the garden. It’ll kill all the bugs.”
“You forgot the Dean Martin song,” I mumbled dejectedly.
Alas, it turns out Tara’s desire for snow has nothing to do with snow, but rather, insecticide. Last winter was mild and largely snow-free; as a result, the garden was overrun with earwigs and other insects that feasted on her tomatoes and peppers. She’s just using snow to keep them at bay. It’s enough to make a true snow-lover like me weep.
As far as first snowfalls of the season go, this one was pretty impressive. No mere dusting like last year. This was the real deal, baby – we got about 3.5″ over the course of a few hours, along with 45-mph winds. It felt downright blizzarddy for a bit. Tara and I were both thankful to be working from home today.
(And yes, even though half the neighborhood has Christmas decorations up, we’re clinging stubbornly to pumpkins and straw bales.)
By noon it had all but ended, and as the temperature creeps closer to 40°, is already melting. It’ll all be gone by tomorrow, but if the Thanksgiving Day forecast holds up, we may have more opportunities for skipping next week. Which, I might add, isn’t only fun, but an excellent way to burn calories from your turkey feast. The ultimate win/win!
Ever have an email show up really, really late? Are you a person who skips through the snow or do you merely tolerate it? Any sign of winter in your neck of the woods yet?
Mark My Words 
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