Yesterday, it stormed so hard that school was closed. To put this into perspective, our school is never closed. One of the teachers told me throughout her past eight years she has been at Shishmaref School, there has only been one day closed for weather.

The wind is coming from the south, which means it’s warm. It’s bringing wet snow. The gusts strain to knock me over on my short commute to school.

No planes bring people in to town or take people away. No mail leaves or comes in. Everything stays still until the storm passes.

I remember snow days when I was in first and second grade. (This was in the state of New York) I remember excitedly listening to the radio and cheering when we didn’t have to go to school. It was bonus time. I don’t remember having to make up days to make sure we had the required number of school days. I was too young to notice.  Maybe we did.

In Shishmaref, we make up the days. If we close school, then we make it up on the following Saturday. That sort of takes away the enchantment of snow days.

This kind of storm is dreary. It’s no fun to go out and walk. It’s no fun to look at the world through the veil of soggy falling snow.

So, I look at my photos of the beautiful fireweed from last summer. And I dream of the fireweed and chamomile I will harvest in the Kenai this coming summer. Maybe a cup of hot cocoa and a movie will help distract me from the soggy storm.