Let It Snow!

All that anyone on TV or radio or messaging on X is talking about this week is the “catastrophic” ice storm and/or heavy snow due to fall over the weekend. Not in Tucson, of course. It’s going to start out in Texas, east of us by a lot, then swing up toward the Northeast. Estimates are 8 to 18 inches of snow, with the areas getting ice being so much worse.

I grew up in the Northeast, and I kind of miss snow days. Watching the whiteout conditions while safe and warm inside my family’s Cape Cod house was always fascinating. Sledding and snowball fights followed, and it was one big party with the drink of choice being hot chocolate.

As I got older, I became less enamored of the cold and the snow, which was one of the reasons I was happy to take a new job in Tucson, Arizona. Like most transplanted northerners, a sweater was plenty warm enough for me during the “cold” December days. And so, my first Tucson “snowstorm” turned out to be quite a surprise.

I’ll never forget that morning. I was living in the foothills north of Tucson and working in the IT department of a family-owned company farther south. As always, I opened the blinds as I took my first sip of coffee. Not as always, I was amazed to see snowflakes drifting down from the sky. Huh. Looking closer, everything was coated in a light dusting of snow. Well, I thought, I’d better make sure to dress warm today before heading out there. I was looking forward to asking my coworkers how often this happened, and sharing stories of blizzards and nor’easters from my past.

And then the phone rang. I picked it up, wondering who could possibly be calling me at that hour. It turned out to be Mary (not her real name), one of my coworkers. “There’s a two-hour delayed opening because of the snow.”

I checked the view outside my window again to make sure I hadn’t imagined the dusting. Nope. That’s still all that was on the ground. “But there’s almost no snow at all,” I said in disbelief.

Mary, who was also from New York, replied, “I know. But no one in Tucson knows how to drive in snow. And the city only has one snow plow.”

“Snow plow?”

Mary sighed. “They plow the bridges.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later.”

February Snow in Tucson

In my almost twenty years in Tucson, I only remember one other time it snowed enough to coat the ground. By that time, I’d bought a three-bedroom house that I always assumed would be my final home here. And, because I now had room, I invited my mother and sister to visit me in February, touting how warm it was here and telling them about all the wonderful outdoor things we could do.

Yeah. That was the second time it snowed, covering the rocks and gravel (we don’t do lawns in most of Tucson). Certain the sun would come out and things would warm up to the seventies fairly quickly, I suggested we go to the first destination I’d chosen, Fort Lowell, I believe, where we could walk around the historic site and enjoy the weather.

Except the sun never did come out that day. A cold drizzle never stopped as we strode through the grounds and exhibits. So we went home. I believe we stopped somewhere for a hot meal—Mexican, so they could sample the native culture, or possibly even Chinese because that was our usual eating out meal elsewhere—and planned the next few days indoors.

This weekend, I’ll probably tune to the YouTube channel of one of my favorite storm chasers and watch the snow vicariously. I’ll probably miss that “snow day!” feeling I had so many times as a child, but enjoy the memories that are sure to come back to me.