Villette and Sledding

I have always loved winter and especially snow. Even when I was at Carleton and spent most of the winter with snow on the ground, I never tired of it. Of course, the truth is that sometimes snow is an inconvenience, but when you are a snow lover like me, that inconvenience becomes an identity crisis.

We had our first proper snow of the season Friday night and got in some good sledding Saturday morning. We go to a fabulous hill a few blocks away: there is a steep slope, then a short level bit, and then another steep slope, so it's a really fun ride, as long as you steer clear of the nineteenth-century brick posts and stop before you fall in the creek. These obstacles just raise the heart rate, though, making the whole experience more fun.

After the morning on the hill, we spent Saturday afternoon reconnecting with old friends near Wilkes-Barre, and then my husband left to spend a few days with his father. This left me to manage the three kids alone, and on Sunday, I also had about 100 pages of Villette to read for my seminar. Thus, when the kids said they'd rather watch a movie than go back to the hill, I happily acquiesced. The two hours they spent in front of the TV was about forty pages of Villette, some dishes, and a couple of loads of laundry. They were happy, and I was productive. A win-win, but was it?

Villette is a brilliant book, and I appreciated its nuance much more this time through than I had in the past. The narrative is smart and self-aware and even cruel--all fascinating [and, as an aside, my students did brilliantly with the book]. But I'm not sure how I feel about choosing Villette over sledding. Instead of cutting loose in the snow with my kids, I gave in to that curse of a babysitter Disney and sat alone on the couch with Lucy Snowe and her in-your-face misery. I want to be someone who can always go sledding, not someone who is relieved when the kids don't want to go.

Another snowstorm is coming tomorrow, and I've already worked out babysitting in case the public schools are closed. Again, while I yearn to be outside in the snow, I will have to stay in with Lucy Snowe, teaching Villette. I suppose it will be some consolation to watch the snow falling while we hunker down and talk deeply about the book. And it is a greater consolation to know that it will stay cold for the foreseeable future, so we can spend Thursday afternoon dodging the posts and the creek as we sled with abandon.