• Published 25th Feb 2016
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Silver Glow's Journal - Admiral Biscuit



Silver Glow takes an opportunity to spend a year at an Earth college, where she'll learn about Earth culture and make new friends.

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Snowstorm!

January 21

The first thing I did when I got up was press my muzzle against our window so that I could look at the fresh blanket of snow.

Sadly, there was no fresh blanket of snow. The ground was as barren and snow-free as it had been yesterday. That was really disappointing; our climate professor had promised that there would be, and there wasn't. So the human weatherpeople had gotten it wrong.

I started my morning trotting routine with a little less enthusiasm than before. I'd so been looking forward to new snow, and there wasn't any. Dumb unpredictable human weather.

Still, it wanted to snow. The clouds overhead were gravid with it, and I guess it's not the humans' fault that they can't make it fall when they want it to. We'd have been reprimanded for not starting a snowfall on bare ground before sunup, so even if there wasn't a fresh blanket on the ground you could see it coming down.

It's hard to see your duties going unfilled, and I wasn't even halfway done with my route before I felt the need to get up there. There wasn't much that only one pegasus could do to get a storm of this magnitude going, and maybe here on Earth, I couldn't do anything at all, but I could look. I knew that the clouds would be low enough for me to fly up to them, although I wasn't supposed to fly around inside them, because an airplane might also be in there.

I almost galloped back to the dorm room and hastily put on my flying outfit. I used the radio to ask the airplane for clearance while I was still on my way back out of the dorm, and they grudgingly gave it to me. The man who I was talking on the radio doesn't seem all that friendly. Maybe he's not a morning person either.

There are a few early-risers on campus, and I saw two of them pointing up at me as I angled into the sky.

As eager as I was, I took the proper precautions around the cloud. I didn't fly right in; I looked all around me to make certain that there weren't any airplanes sneaking up, and I listened for any airplane noises. The one I'd flown in before had been really loud, and the one I'd seen at the airport when I got my pilot's license wasn't as loud but it was buzzy like a bee, so I was sure I would hear them if they were close.

Then I zipped up a few dozen more feet, and I was in it.

There's no way to properly describe the joy of being in a cloud, of being a small part of the weather. It's surely the same feeling an earth pony gets feeling the good soil under her hooves, or a unicorn feels channeling a spell through her horn. It's a feeling of joy and wonder and power all wrapped up in one. It's the feeling of the air currents caressing your coat and the delicate dewdrops collecting on your feathers, of the strange shifting of sound in the moisture-laden air.

I was one with the cloud. I knew the cloud, and it knew me. Already the snow was forming in it, just as the weatherpeople had promised.

I dove back out of the cloud, and once I was in clear air I let myself drift down as if I were a snowflake.

By the time I was out of the shower and on my way to poetry class, the snow had begun. The old snowpiles, dirty and melted, had a thin fresh layer on them, but everywhere else, the sparse snow was melting as soon as it touched the ground.

That would change quickly, I knew.

I was a bit distracted during poetry class; I kept turning my head to see the snow falling by the window. It was getting progressively thicker and heavier. I imagined so much of it falling that it would cover the window, but that was impossible; poetry class was on the second floor.

Professor Hillberry was prepared for the weather. He read aloud The Snow, which I liked very much—Emily Dickinson understood watching a snowfall. I imagine that she sat at her desk, which was probably very much like mine, and watched the snowfall through her window, blanketing the slumbering land.

I don't think she would like playing in it, though. Not as much as pegasuses did. But maybe she would. Maybe she'd want to soar in the clouds and feel the fresh flakes as they were born inside the cloud.

By the time class was out, it was already fetlock deep. People put on hats or put up the hoods on their jackets and leaned into the snow, but not me. I soared gleefully into the air and darted around in the snowflakes, then skimmed back down to earth, trailing my hooves through the fresh powder.

Then I landed on the flat half of the front lawn and rolled in the snow, letting it dust my coat. Once I was well-covered, I stood back up and shook some of it out of my mane, flicked a little bit from my tail, and nodded politely to the student who was pointing his portable telephone in my direction. He was probably so amazed at seeing somepony actually play in the snow that he forgot how to use it. He was pushing at the screen when I turned away to go to the dining hall.

I shook myself the rest of the way off before I went in. It's not polite to be dripping all over when you're inside.

I kind of rushed through lunch, because I wanted to get back outside again. Rather than spend a lot of time choosing what to eat, I just had a salad and some dark bread.

As the afternoon went by, the snow got deeper, and my classmates began playing in the snow. Some of them rode sleds and saucers down the hill, to the detriment of people attempting to cross between Olds-Upton and the dining hall, while others packed up handfuls of snow and threw them at each other.

I tried my luck with a sled, which was a lot of fun. I was told that I was supposed to sit down on it, but it was easier to be on all four hooves and use my wings for balance—plus, that made it easier to soar free when the sled went off-course.

Peggy joined us, along with Sean and Christine and Aric and Brianna and Keith and a few other people I don't know all that well (like James and Elisabeth). They all came and went as the day went on, because they had to go to classes, but I didn't because I don't have any classes in the afternoon.

After dinner (with lots of hot chocolate), we went back outside and played some more. The snow was still coming down, although not as heavy as it had been before. I sledded some more, and then Peggy made a snowman while I made a snowpony.

We were super-soggy by the time we got back to the dorm. Her boots were too short, so when she went through deep snow, it fell over her boottops. I was soaked to my skin, but it had been totally worth it.

She started getting out of her wet clothes as soon as she went into the room. I, of course, didn't have to do that at all, and I'd shaken most of the loose snow off myself while I was still outside, and she thought that was sort of unfair because she had wet socks and cold feet.

I took the first shower, since she was still taking off her clothes (although I offered to wait). Then I read a chapter of The Last Unicorn while she had her turn in the shower. It would have been nice to share but we were told that humans don't like that, so I hadn't asked her. Maybe I would one day, and maybe they just didn't share because they'd never thought of it.

Before I went to bed, I took one last look outside. The snow was still coming down.

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