A Snow Falls in Atlanta

It's hot outside.  It's really hot.

As a Southerner, and especially an Atlantan, I have always romanticized the snow.   Arguably to the extent that a New Yorker pines for winters in Florida, I similarly pine for snow in Atlanta.

My romanticism extends back to childhood.  Winter and fall have always been my favorite seasons.  Growing up in the 1980s, my brothers and I were urged to play outside   -- rather than sit inside with our Atari 5200.  So we definitely had our fair exposure to sultry Georgia summers. 

When my parents built our home in Stone Mountain, in 1973, they managed to purchase a 3 acre cul-de-sac lot.  The vast majority of the land, approximately 2.5 acres, was designated to be in a floodplain zone -- which at the time was considered unbuildable --  and extended back to Susan Creek.  This was a great playground for my friends and me -- we would spend summer afternoons playing war, or some variation thereof, until dark.  During certain intermissions, my mother would come out to our back deck and playfully toss popsicles one-at-a-time to my friends and me -- and we caught them in our driveway below.

So, granted, summer indeed does have its rightful share of memories.  As a homeowner, I now appreciate  when everything blooms in the neighborhoods of intown Atlanta .  It serves as a reminder, if you will, that everything is still alive.  Perhaps, too, there is something to be said for the proverbial rejuvenation that spring brings to us -- and, at the same time, a welcome reminder to each of us that we are still alive as well.  

But, I digress.  This article isn't about summer per-se -- but moreso about snow.

Granted, certain conditions must apply to enjoy snowfall in Atlanta. First of all, you really must not have anywhere to go.  Preferably it's around the holidays, but even late in the winter will suffice.  And, ultimately, other than being homebound with the heat cranked up for a few days -- snow should not be a burden of any sort. 

This is quite different from the snow of which my friends in Boston and New York speak.  To them it is something that falls to the ground, is pretty for a few weeks -- then just freezes over, piles up, collects dirty rain water, then freezes over once again. Understandably this is not very romantic.  It's in the way, an obstacle.  Although, I have yet to meet someone from the north who does not miss having a white Christmas, seasonal celebration, or at least appreciates any downtime they experience during that time of year.  

So, with human nature being as it is -- and factoring in our innate desire to pine for greener grass -- I have elected to share a few photos that I took near my home from our ice storm in January 2011.

This year's ice storm was apocalyptic.  Most of us were wise enough to stay home.  A few of us, such as myself, were not as wise and elected to venture into the office.  My commute to Midtown was greatly abated by electing to take the MARTA train line -- it's just that my normal ten minute walk to the Brookhaven-Oglethorpe MARTA station was a bit more treacherous, and took about three times as long.

Naturally, since the roads were completely iced over, the buses were not in service.  The streets were completely barren.  The occasional rear wheel drive Ford Crown Victoria taxi would fishtail its way up North Druid Hills Road -- just past the Brookhaven library. 

I, for good reason, elected to walk. 

But, it was not unlike a winter version of Thunderdome.  A certain quiet, peacefulness -- then, out of nowhere, a roaring monster emerges and violently works its way up the hill. 

I did manage to have my running shoes to help a bit with my traction but -- even on foot -- was passed by many more a well-equipped neighbor.  Some even out walking their dogs. 

I did not feel defeated though.  Instead, I looked forward to the weather warming back up.