Editor’s note: This op-ed is by Telly Halkias, an award-winning freelance journalist. It originally appeared in the Bennington Banner.
It’s not supposed to snow in October, even in Vermont.
So with those two recent bursts of the white stuff, one more than the other, I paused in writing this column. Well, trying to write it anyway, and then changing my mind from the original draft.
The snow began in mid afternoon and preoccupied me well into darkness, because it didn’t want to stop.
That wasn’t a problem, either. During the holidays there are few things as pleasant as a white Christmas, especially if I don’t have to go anywhere. But moments in October snow are rare, and worth savoring.
I love the outdoors on such a day, as everything seems to slow down like traffic inching along slippery streets.
To be sure, there were dangers in a mental downshift. It was fine for the cats and dogs — they curled up during the white cascade. Each of them found a corner or seat or open closet and wisely declared détente in favor of a nap whose tranquility I envied.
However, my homework wouldn’t go away: A stack of ungraded research essays on one side, and unanswered phone calls and unpaid bills piled up on the other. In the middle sat this column, on the computer screen far longer than necessary.
I fought off writer’s block by trying to address an issue of the day, a follow-up to last week’s teachers’ strike. But after sounding like the broken record whose tunes I try to avoid, I gave in to impulse and took a break.
It was the perfect interlude. Downstairs in the kitchen my mother was sitting down for a late snack. Given this shock of autumn precipitation, a snow-birding exit to my sister’s place in Virginia probably couldn’t come soon enough for her. But with light already fading the afternoon away, I grabbed a bite and sat for a while.
Predictably, Mom discussed a few culinary fine points, and proceeded to run down some related ideas from her favorite TV chefs. Having read the day’s mail, she also brought me up to speed on relatives and friends, as well as the obligatory sick report. In some detail, she reviewed which octogenarians were suffering from what ailments.
The comfort of this routine didn’t escape me; it blanketed the room just as the descending snow covered the back yard. Sometimes Mom mentioned a recognizable name, and other times I had no idea who she was talking about. Each generated enough questions from me to fill the silence, even if for a few minutes.
As we chatted, I kept an eye outdoors.
The birdfeeder was a bevy of cardinals and other hangers-on flitting back and forth between seed and suet — and probably confused by snow. From inside, I longed to hear their song as in summer, when the windows are open. They seemed to enjoy their own snack as nightfall lowered its curtain of October dusk.
The dogs, typically excited by one bird lingering at the feeder, stayed on the back porch. They glanced over at the feasting aviators but didn’t budge from their siesta. Mom’s testimony was over and my snack gone. Time to get back to work.
I left the strike and school taxes and the board to smarter folks, and within a few days was rewarded with the squabble’s end. Good decision to drop the sequel.
As Mom puttered out of the room, I wondered: Will we ever get this chance again during leaf season? Will the birds join us and the pets ignore us?
The snow, falling faster as daylight retreated to the west, was a welcome autumn interloper.
