On Friday, the fifth of February, Kent, Ohio was powdered with about ten inches of perfect-for-snowball-fights snow. It wasn't a surprise, we had been forewarned, but the winter storm came calmly. It was as if the clouds were matter-of-factly dumping their fluffy precipitation on us like someone unenthusiastically shaking salt on a dull plate of food. And there was no stopping it; no matter how much seasoning disguised that unappetizing dish the clouds would not be satisfied. By Saturday morning, when I headed over to studio at 9am, everything was covered with a generous helping of clean snow. My walk from Fletcher Hall to Taylor Hall took a little bit longer than usual because only a few paths had been cleared.
By Sunday a few more paths had been cleared by people trudging over the same set of footprints. On the way to the hub for dinner, a snowball fight ensued between me, Tyler, Molly, Dan, Ryan, and Katie. Cold chunks of snow flew through the air, exploding down vulnerable backs or simply crashing to the ground with defeated thuds. The whole scene, filled with laughter and in-good-fun revenge, made me despise snow a little less. At home it doesn't take long for snow to turn grey and slushy. Constant movement of vehicles and people, excessive piles of salt, and a smattering of dogs' yellow graffiti quickly taint the simple beauty of fresh snow. Here, though, remains expansive patches of unadulterated white snow.
We are supposed to get another six to nine inches of snow by tomorrow. It's snowing now. My phone buzzes with class cancellation notices for the Kent branches; I'm waiting with crossed fingers that the next one will announce that all Kent campus evening classes are canceled.
...carolyn
p.s. the black squirrel is still in the heaters on the fourth floor
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