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I was eagerly anticipating a Boston winter – the prospect of being in a snowy region was a major draw for our trip here. Last week seemed promising in terms of weather, with headlines predicting a heavy snowfall (the most in two years) and schools preemptively closing. Snowplow attachments appeared on cars and even my yoga teacher ended class with a foreboding “Good luck with the storm.”

My spouse and I were filled with excitement like young children. Would there be a significant amount of snow, six inches perhaps? Or even twelve? “When I wake up at 4am,” my husband exclaimed while examining his weather app, “it should already be covered in snow.” While at the store, he asked with genuine concern if we should purchase a sled “before they all get sold out.”

We were yearning for the snow from our youth. The last time I was snowed in was during my primary school days, and the last time I encountered heavy snow that brought an otherworldly silence was in January 2009 (I remember because I had a new puppy and spent a lot of time outside with him in the snow, trying to get him to pee). The current climate crisis has made snow a luxury that is no longer easily accessible for many, requiring air travel to experience it (which only contributes to further global warming and decreases the likelihood of snow). It feels like there is a widespread feeling of solastalgia, triggered by the lack of snow: a realization that we have lost something irreplaceable and magical.

In the evening, the predictions made by meteorologists drastically changed. The storm had shifted direction and the forecasts were less severe. We went to bed uncertain of what to expect. At 4am, I looked outside without my glasses and the ground appeared blurry and brown. By mid-morning, there was precipitation falling from the sky, but it was only light rain. Frustrated, I texted my son that I could experience this type of weather in York. Throughout the day, we watched with hope for snow, but were only met with a few flurries. By the end of the day, there was only a light dusting of snow. The local newspaper described it as a disappointment for a “snow day.” The lady at the diner mentioned that everyone was relieved, except for us.

• Emma Beddington is a Guardian columnist

Source: theguardian.com