It's no secret that I harbor a measure of derision for Portland's "snow" days. Coming from a place where I had to go to school after two feet of snow fell overnight, it's hard for me to muster excitement for school children who get a snow day for frost. But that's just the way it is here, and even after 8ish inches of snow fell last week, I have yet to see that one snowplow Wilsonville allegedly has.
Snowfall like this comes to Portland about once every five or so years, and I'll be honest: I loved it. With legit snow being so rare here, it was nice that the whole area shut down. Josh came home early from work Thursday and Friday, and I did lots of baking and cocoa drinking. On Saturday we drove to Josh's parents' so that Asher could sled down their driveway, and on our drive we saw people out everywhere. Not many cars were on the road, but there were kids and adults alike bundled up, carting sleds, throwing snowballs, and building snowmen.
Snow comes so regularly to Denver that it rarely produces such a communal thrill. As a kid of course I'd have my mom help me with my snow pants and parka and boots and gloves and hat just so I could play in the snow for 20 minutes. We made snow men and even went sledding a time or two. But life had to go on, otherwise our whole winter (and a good chunk of spring and fall) would be snow days. Here in Portland, though? Life is paused for a time, and even this Rocky Mountain girl will admit that's pretty fun.
So yes, I may never stop scoffing at the minimal amount of weather it takes to constitute a Portlandian "snow" day, but when those snow days are real snow days? Portland sure knows how to do them right.