There’s something about an official Snow Day that feels different.

It’s not like a sick day, or a holiday, or even a random day off. It’s like nature throwing a curtain over the birdcage of the world and telling everyone to calm down.

I’ve asked a few people about Snow Day Magic and several cited a nostalgic feeling of school being cancelled as a kid. However, I grew up in Louisiana. I remember it snowing twice, but oddly enough, both times were over a weekend. (Once was during my 14th birthday party. My friends and I went out in it and thought it was the best day ever.) Louisiana snow didn’t stick, either. You might get a quarter inch accumulation in a shady spot but that’s it. We had school cancelled due to hurricanes, but it’s not the same when there’s an evacuation and an element of fear mixed in.

In Chicago there were no Snow Days. I was fully adult when I moved there. Never did the city stop for snow or extreme cold. I remember having to go out in a -40 degree polar vortex to teach a yoga class. Yes, people showed up. I hated it. I understood that a city that is so frequently cold and snowy like Chicago couldn’t conceivably shut down for the weather, but the dead of a Chicago Winter will always be my own version of the 9th circle of Hell.

This is different.

Since living in Tennessee, I’ve experienced three big snow dump weeks. Usually one week in January where the world turns into a Bob Ross painting, temperatures drop, and everyone huddles. I’ve been lucky enough not to experience any power outages during that time and to have plenty of food and such at home.

I love it.

And it has nothing to do with getting off work since I work from home. I still get cold—our insulation and heating systems are built for southern climates—and wear big sweatshirts and thick socks around the house. I have a blanket in every room. On Wednesday it was - 1 degrees when we woke up and the heater couldn’t get the place above 60. I was still good.

Perhaps it’s the knowledge that it will all be gone by next week and I won’t have to deal with it for months on end. Perhaps it’s the simple fact that I don’t have to go out in it if I don’t want to. I have my work, I have my treadmill, my free weights, FaceTime, an electric blanket, and tons of books. In fact, I often find myself sending out gratitude throughout these days: Thankful that I don’t have to leave if I don’t want to, happy that I no longer work a job that would push me into a stressful trip over icy roads, and appreciation for my home set up.

As I mentioned last week, I’m trying to find a way to consciously decrease stress and slow down for my health. It’s difficult because my default is to push myself to do more and often I don’t realize I’m stressed until I’m watching myself through months of hindsight, but I’m trying. Something about the Snow Days flipped a switch.

Tuesdays are usually rest days from running for me. In the reasonable months, I go for a bike ride instead. During the colder months, I walk on the treadmill. (I used to bike in all of the weather in Chicago, but I am not about that life anymore.) On Snow Day Tuesday, when the alarm went off at 5 a.m., I decided just to sleep in. I went to work at 7 as usual, but that’s the first time I’ve skipped a morning workout when I wasn’t sick with Covid or stomach flu. And I didn’t even feel guilty about it. Which is a minor miracle.

I thank nature for this reminder to slow down and rest. And I look forward to those high 50s next week.

What is it about a Snow Day