I can walk out of my office to a large atrium with enormous floor-to-ceiling windows from which I see the heavy snow falling onto the bridge that leads to Nicollet Island. and I see the Mississippi River just above St. Anthony Falls. From the other direction, where the windows are not so dramatic, I see a somewhat pedestrian streetscape, the back of some commercial buildings, but I see it through a haze of white falling heavy powder.
I am safe and warm. I actually have plenty of good homemade food with me today, although I probably won't be staying long enough to eat any of it and, as a coworker pointed out, we are less than a block from a supermarket. Even if the buses don't come for me (there are two I need to take) I am only three and a half miles from home, which is a long walk but not impossible and the snow is delightful when you don't have to dig through it.
I have work I can do at home, so I should probably leave because once I'm home I can go out and shovel every three hours or so. I shoveled last night, during the first small blast but at the time I didn't know it would be a small blast. To shovel while the snow is still falling hard reminds you of the word "Sisyphean". By the time you finish, enough snow has fallen to shovel from where you began. I shoveled again this morning, and even though it was only an additional inch since the previous night it had been a warm night, with temperatures hovering around freezing, so this slushy snow was deceptively heavy. What's falling down now is coconut marshmallow topping.
Yes, yes -- I think I'll go home in half an hour or so, and enjoy the buses and the walks to and from the bus stops, and then sit in my cozy living room and pull back the curtains and watch it all fall down hard from the sky while I am not behind the wheel of a car on a highway.