The Arrival of Snow

If I look out my window just right this morning, past the stone buildings and above the rows of grapevines, I'm back home. The trees are covered in a soft blanket of white, the horizon line obscured by the sweeping brushstrokes of soft baby blues and muted grays. It's snowing!

This being the second day this week in which we have enjoyed a glimpse of home, I thought it a good day to write about snow in the Loire Valley and it's amazing impact. Despite the optical illusion, it is proof positive we are NOT in New Hampshire anymore.

Monday morning we awoke to blue skies above with ominous-looking, heavy gray masses off in the distance. We arrived at Vivi's bus stop in time to be informed that the bus was not running today. I immediately assumed it had engine trouble or the driver was sick or something of that nature. But as it turned out, nature itself was to be blame. "It might snow today," the bus monitor explained. David and I gazed up into the sun-bright sky, looked at one another with our eyebrows raised and incredulous grins before turning to her for clarification. "Whenever it is 'Code Orange' the buses don't run," she explained. "It won't run tonight either. And if it does snow, come to school early to get your daughter."

Ummmm 'Code Orange' because theirs a chance of snow? Oookaay. We shuddered to think of the crisis a "Code Red"would indicate.

We walked Bo up to his school and were surprised to find the makings for a one-room schoolhouse with children of all ages playing in the courtyard. Apparently, parents drop their kids off at the guardarie ('before/after school program') without consideration for what happens if the buses fail to transport their children to the appropriate school. I wondered if I should offer to take a car-load of kids over to Panzoult with Vivi, but the American fear-of-lawsuit mind overruled that option. Off to Panzoult we drove alone, sunbeams more blinding than any blizzard could be.

At Vivi's school the same multi-aged mixture greeted us. The courtyard looked an awful lot like a couple of homeschool families had gathered for the day. I chuckled as I imagined how the teachers were going to muddle through. As I left, I called out to Vivi's teacher, "See you tomorrow for English." She looked at me oddly, then quickly retorted,

"Oh, no. Probably not. It is going to snow today. There will only be a couple children here tomorrow. You better call first." With a shrug and a shake of my head, I donned my much-needed sunglasses and headed for home, not quite comprehending how snow today meant no school tomorrow.

An hour later it was snowing flakes the size of silver-dollars, suggesting once again that New England simply stole and translated the phrase "If you don't like the weather, wait an hour" from it's original french. It snowed for the next 10 hours, accumulating to roughly 3-4inches of perfect snowman-making material.

Around 10am I begun to worry if they would close the schools and if so, how would I find out? David and I were scheduled to attend our weekly French luncheon and I was worried we would miss the phone call. Not knowing what to do, I reached out to our pastor (the go-to for any need, right?) to find out what to expect for the rest of the day. He assured me that if the kids were already safely at school, I should leave them be and retrieve them at the normal time.

Therefore, we trudged through the snow to our French luncheon, pleasantly surprised by the group assembled. But, still worried the schools would want us to get the kids early, we didn't stay for lunch, only to return home to an empty voice mail box and silent phone. Thus, at our regularly scheduled pick-up time, we arrived at Vivi's school to discover her and only one other lonely student remained. Oops. We apologized to la maitress who graciously understood, after all, "la neige est notre habitude." Yes, for sure, we are very accustomed to driving in the snow, but we do clear the roads, which is impossible for our small village here. Much like our Southern neighbors back home (I assume), the arrival of snow here is "une catastrophe." Indeed, by the end of the day on Monday, the roads had developed tire-sized tracks with a rails of snow in between, closely resembling the much-loved Antique Car Ride at Storyland. Not to worry though, we decided against letting the kids drive.

But did I mention it was breathtakingly beautiful?