Something happened last night that I had, up until 5:30 this morning, forgotten the beauty of; it snowed! It’s not the very first snow of the year, of course, but the previous two times didn’t count for much because the sky dumped about a half-inch of thick, white flakes on us, which melted away within twelve or so hours.
This morning when I stepped out onto the porch, there was a heavy blanket of the stuff- three or four inches, and if I had any sense at all, I’d be out there right now, building a miniature army of snowmen (Calvin & Hobbes style).
But alas, in my old age, I greatly prefer to sit inside and drink hot coffee and contemplate the snow, rather than play in it…for now. At least until the sun comes up.
Call me crazy (and plenty of people have), but I love winter. Summer time is too…skimpy for me. I have never been a fan of wearing short shorts and halter tops and running around barefoot in the sun-baked grass. Even as a little kid, long before I ever had to feel self-conscious about things like my body, or the lack of a tan on my legs, I generally wore jeans and even sometimes a sweater in the dead of summer.
These days, I suffer through the heat and impatiently await a time with more reasonable temperatures…if -30 degrees can be called reasonable. It feels alright to me, once I’ve put on some Smart Wool socks, a pair of tights, a pair of jeans, boots, an under shirt, a t-shirt, a hoodie, and my heaviest winter coat and a pair of gloves.
Not that I haven’t been known to spend time outdoors in the winter months with nothing more than pajamas and flip-flops on, but I think I’d like to keep my toes, thank you very much, so more often than not, bring on the snow boots.
I actually enjoy having to bundle up. I enjoy frolicking (oh yes, I said frolicking) in the soggy snow until my toes go numb, and then I enjoy the struggle of getting my boots off of my feet without also removing my socks in the same motion.
I even like shoveling snow. No, really, I do. There’s something about it that makes me feel really good; maybe the exercising in the cold part, I don’t know. I actually think it’s a bit of a bummer that it’s far more effective where I live for my husband to borrow a snow blower and make a bunch of paths through our yard and all the neighbors’, too.
I prefer blizzards to every other type of natural disaster. No matter where you choose to live, there’s going to be some kind of force that could potentially destroy you, and I’m kind of partial to the sort of forces I can choose to take part in or not- therefore, I live in an area where there is no chance for a hurricane, tsunami, or major flood. There is little chance of an earthquake, and a tornado is an extremely rare event here. Wild fires can cause major damage, but they’re hardly ever close enough to where I live to be an immediate danger to my home. But blizzards…
I can stay in the house if I don’t want to freeze to death or get lost in the blinding snow or slip-slide down the highway until I crash. I recently explained this to people. Blizzards can be watched from the cozy warmth of the sofa and a fuzzy blanket, whereas tornadoes and earthquakes and floods and hurricanes…they don’t bother knocking before coming in.
I have friends and family who have tried to survive in this area of Colorado, and who gave up because the snow lasts too long and the temperature drops too low. Maybe someday that will bother me, too, but I can’t really imagine it. I don’t think I could ever live somewhere that snow wasn’t pretty much guaranteed for Christmas, or where temperatures rise over 100 frequently (scratch that, I lived for 5 years somewhere that snow wasn’t guaranteed for Christmas and temperatures often liked to reach 105 in the summer. Any place where people die from the heat because they haven’t got air conditioning or a swamp cooler is too damned hot…the hell with that, I say!).
Everything is so much prettier, covered in snow. For instance, our house is heated by propane, and therefore, there is an ugly old tank outside that cannot be disguised despite somebody’s attempts at setting a few rocks around it, and planting a tree by it. No dice. But a few feet of snow, that does wonders for hiding hideous junk in a yard.
On a slightly related note, Clint crawled out of bed a bit ago and with his eyes half closed, he shuffled out to the living room and said, “F*#@ snow.”
There you have it, ladies and gentlemen.
Cristen's Corner 