Director's Notes: 179 - First Snow

The first time I saw snow in person was in the desert resort town of Palm Springs. There is a tram there that takes tourists up to the top of a nearby mountain, which in the colder part of the year is snowy. It is a strange thing to go from the desert to the snow in a scenic ten minutes, especially if you are a child of Southern California and have never seen snow outside of movies. It was half-magic trick and half-terror. I was too young to really understand all of the ways that snow changes a landscape, and I slipped on a particularly icy bit, sliding backwards down a hill. After that, the splendor of snow had worn off on me, and I just wanted to sit near the lodge until it was time to descend to the safety of the cacti.

The next time I saw snow was in Korea. I had a 12 hour layover there on my way to Cambodia because I wasn’t very good at buying airplane tickets. But since Korea is a more developed country than the one I live in, the airline was required to provide us with a voucher for a hotel during our stay. So we slept in an airport hotel, and then, after our nap, took a walk. It was actively snowing, and I wandered around in my college sweatshirt, which was the warmest garment I owned at the time. The wonder at being in a new country and being in a new weather mingled, and it was one of the better layovers I’ve ever had.

Look how young I was. Ugh, disgusting.

When I moved to New York City, I finally lived in a place where I would encounter snow regularly. The first time it snowed, some light flurries, I ran outside in the middle of the night to revel in the extraordinary moment. I think was on the phone with my sister, who has never lived anywhere but California, trying to express how strange and wonderful it was. This was long before I ever had to deal with the practical problems caused by snow. I owned no driveway or sidewalk that needed shoveling, and I didn’t own a car so salty, slushy roads were long in my future. Instead I only had the slow drift downwards, the silent gathering that turns every surface reflective.

This is a mountain in the Swiss Alps, not actually the sled hill on my property. Later this day I had a very bad crash on that very sled.

Now I live in upstate New York, and the hill right outside my home office is a perfect sled hill. It’s an inexplicable thing, for someone whose mind is still stuck in California, to step outside and be on a thrill ride down into a broad snowy expanse. On New Year’s Eve once, we went sledding at midnight, stopping at the bottom to lie on our backs in the snow, looking up at a starry sky that was cloudless and free of light pollution. Then the next day I had to shovel my driveway, and I hated that snow ever existed.

Night Vale has yet to experience snow. I hope they do someday.

Speaking of the snowy time of year, Night Vale is having a double feature holiday special live stream, featuring two of our most disturbing and creepy holiday classics. Grab tickets here. 

-Joseph Fink