Chelsea Morgan

Lately I've heard a lot of complaints about the winter travesty that has been upon our nation. Every time I'm on Facebook, I see a new status about someone who was either thwarted by Mother Nature or saved by the generosity of neighbors. And I have my complaints, too. My back has been sprained for a few days from shoveling out a spot for my car. It took me a hour and a half to get to a rehearsal that should have taken me 20 minutes. Every nook and cranny of my parka is full of snow, all my leggings have holes in them, and I definitely have cabin fever. (The cabin fever, at least, has a cure.)

 Why? WHY?!

However...it's not all bad, guys. I mean, I chose to live in Chicago and I've lived in the Chicago area for pretty much my entire life. I have to acknowledge that the snow is not going away. We puny humans have to bow down to the snow lords of the Midwest. And something that helps me accept how unbelievable atrocious it is out there is finding its beauty. 

"Ugh, Chelsea," I can hear you saying. "Just keep complaining with the rest of us. Stop being such a goody goody. Why don't you go read Eat, Pray, Love or something?" (Which, by the way, I LOVE, so BACK OFF.)

But the truth is, I do far too much complaining already. I complain about EVERYTHING. From long drives to not enough money to buy sushi every night to long hours at work to the hardships of being an actor. And no, I'm not some starving child in a third-world country, so my complaints have little validation. So why not...complain less? 

Besides, there are so many cool things in the world to gush over. For example, I've been obsessed with the idea of a Storybook Sky my entire life. I think it comes from watching too much Reading Rainbow and letting my imagination take over my sense of reality. (Shelley Duvall's Bedtime Stories also comes to mind.) But the Storybook Sky is one of my all-time favorite things. You know the look: a clear, starry sky, covered only slightly in milky-frothy cloud wisps. The stars sparkle like little cold gems scattered in a deep blue velvet. The kind of sky that fades in ombré to light blue at the edges of the horizon. Like the sky in A Whole New World. Or Beauty and the Beast. Or any number of childhood books that have come to life through illustration. Hence, Storybook Sky. 

I can't emphasize enough how much that kind of atmospheric scene ensnares me. The perfect cutout paper moon and the whimsical wind brushing softly through the trees. The kind of Halloween night or summer evening that stirs anticipation and inspires adventure. The closest representation of what I'm describing is the movie Coraline, but that's another post altogether. 

Still from Coraline

The stars are very comforting to me, and when I look up, I still marvel at our amazing Earth. I am grateful to exist in such beauty. 

Bearing all this in mind, sometimes winter is the best opportunity to see a Storybook Sky. The air is clear and sharp and the night comes quickly and stays longer. I had to venture out-of-doors the other night because I forgot something in my car. And I was so grumpy that I had journeyed all the way home in such vile weather and had to go BACK OUT because of my own stupidity. I turned the corner and saw this:

A surprise Storybook Sky. The clouds were creating a foggy mist above me and the entire world faded into black as I peered down the street. The stars were bright and gentle, the air cold, the world still and quiet. And I was reminded that even though winter can be harsh, it is occasionally pure magic. 

Until I have to dig out my car again. For crying out loud, Chicago. Get it together.