By Leslie Criss / NEMS Daily Journal
“The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind
of world and wake up in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment then where is it
to be found?”
– J.B. Priestley
“I love snow, snow, and all
the forms of radiant frost.”
– Percy Bysshe Shelley
“Snowmen fall from heaven … unassembled.”
If there exists a support group for people who love snow, I should be a member.
It’s no secret – I am a snow lover.
And through the years, I’ve become a disgruntled snow lover because, more often than not, where I am – snow isn’t.
It hardly seems fair.
I’ve given up hope more times than I can remember. But with every new winter my hope is rekindled.
I lived in Vicksburg nearly eight years.
There were a few mentions of snow by prognosticators, but no snow showed.
One year I so wanted the sketchy prediction to come to fruition that I started practicing positive imaging. I rushed out and bought a half dozen boxes of rock salt for my porch steps and my sidewalk.
Nary a flake fell. Nor were there any icy patches.
Nearly 15 years later, I used the last of that rock salt one summer making homemade ice cream.
Less than a year after I left Vicksburg and moved to Northeast Mississippi, I received a barrage of phone calls one morning from dear friends who wanted me to know there was a whole lot of snow on the ground in Vicksburg.
With friends like those …
n n n
A little more than a week ago, all manner of Mississippi meteorologists began teasing us with tidings of some sort of precipitation that might fall around Christmas Eve.
The closer it got to Christmas, the less likely it seemed those predictions would become a reality.
I woke up about 5 Christmas morning to let the dogs out. It was dark, but I saw what I thought was rain.
Several hours later, my friend Bret called and told me to look outside. I noticed I also had text messages from two others, something about snow.
It was Christmas day. I’d wished and hoped and dreamed right along with Bing for a white Christmas for most of my life. I was reluctant to believe it had really happened.
Finally, I looked outside to see that it was indeed a white Christmas.
Roof tops were covered, tree tops glistened, and there was that early-morning, snow-covered quiet that I’ve experienced only a few times in my life.
It was magical.
And well worth the 53-year wait.
Contact Leslie Criss at leslie.criss@djournal .com or (662) 678-1584.