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Ramona's Ramblings

The Art of Smelling Snow

Ramona Jan
Posted 1/7/25

In the 70s, as a teenager, I trained as a figure skater at South Mountain Arena in West Orange, NJ where the world’s most popular free skater of the time, Janet Lynn, also practiced. I watched …

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Ramona's Ramblings

The Art of Smelling Snow

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In the 70s, as a teenager, I trained as a figure skater at South Mountain Arena in West Orange, NJ where the world’s most popular free skater of the time, Janet Lynn, also practiced. I watched her swizzle, toe loop, flip and Lutz with envy. But when the Zamboni cleaned the ice, I was duly reminded of my special talent that no one else seemed to have; the smelling of snow…before it falls, a specialty acquired I believe, on the day I was born.

I was born in the Chinese year of the fire monkey, during a record-breaking snowstorm, on the day cupid plays with the emotions of Gods and mortals, St. Valentine’s Day, also renowned for the assassination of seven members of Chicago’s North Side Gang in 1929.

It was February 14th, 1956, at Orange Memorial Hospital, when I squeezed through the dark unknown and into a pale pink cap and gown, after which I was carried through six foot snow drifts, and then driven in a modest Ford to sets of stairs in my new home on High Street. 

All the while, I slept, and breathed and in that breathing, smelled snow. It was delicious, aromatic. Pleasant even. Later, when trying to describe the scent I’d say, “Smells like nothing I’ve ever known.”

Smelling snow was my secret, kept mostly out of embarrassment but also for trickery. “School closing tomorrow,” I’d announce to my brothers and sister. They’d jump up and down cheering, and Mother would look at me cross-eyed, but sure enough, the next day, there’d be snow enough to bring everything to a standstill.

Later, when I moved to Manhattan, the art of smelling snow became more practical than showy. It told me what to wear and how to prepare for the day. Hats, waterproof boots and warm soups were in order in those times. And still, I kept the art form a secret thinking no one in the Big Apple would be impressed with that kind of flair. It wasn’t like I was making paintings using my ponytail as a paint brush.

When I married and we moved Upstate, I figured it was okay to divulge my knack for smelling snow at least to The Huz (that’s ‘husband’ to new readers) so needed in a place that snowed so much. To that end, I stepped outside one day, and simply announced, “Snow’s on the way,” And The Huz replied, “No way. I checked the weather report.” Minutes later, there was a gale. Now, if I say, “Snow’s coming,” he panics and asks, “When?”

The Huz now relies on my predictions for driving as I am also adept at estimating the time of arrival. It’s a charm, and charming at the same time. But there’s pressure as he likes to test me, and I don’t always get it right. However, I do get it right more times than his weatherman, and that’s good enough for me.

How a fire monkey such as myself is able to smell snow when the characteristics of my sign, according to Chinese astrology, would rather melt it, is a concept beyond even my imagination. Perhaps, had I been born in the summertime, the talent would never have appeared. Or I would have acquired the art of smelling the sun and the ability to predict the rise and fall of temperatures, which to me is not as exciting or crucial. And so, for now, I’ll stick to the art of smelling snow.

RAMONA JAN is the Founder and Director of Yarnslingers, a storytelling group that tells tales both fantastic and true. She is also the roving historian for Callicoon, NY and is often seen giving tours around town. You can email her at callicoonwalkingtours@gmail.com.

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