I love winter. I love it. I love the snow, and I love the holidays (except Thanksgiving, but luckily, we’ve already jumped that hurdle), and I love my winter hat (it has four deelyboppers, otherwise known as pom-poms on strings, and it makes me look approximately four years old, and it is wonderful).
Sadly, my current city really just hasn’t checked a calendar lately. Yesterday’s weather was stormy with a chance of Noah’s Ark, followed by flooding. (In case you couldn’t tell, it was really rainy.) Today is bright and sunny and thirty-nine degrees, but it feels warmer. But you know what hasn’t happened in the middle of all this schizophrenic weather? SNOW.
I mean, it’s December! Is it so much to ask for that some pretty, Thomas Kincade-like snow-showers happen? (Obviously it is, because they’re not happening. But anyway.) I just don’t know how to handle winter without snow. I like to sled (okay, I love it, to the point where I have scars on both sides from sledding adventures, but that’s another story) and cross-country ski and make awkward hipster snowmen.
Instead, I have to freeze my ass off while looking at dead grass and trees with no leaves. Just personally, I’d rather freeze my ass off while looking at a pretty snowy landscape. Because, for some reason, my brain can’t comprehend that cold can exist without snow (I blame my hometown–address: Antarctica, Ice Town [a hamlet of Freezingville in the county of Snowbuckets], on Sleet Street. Ahh, see what I did there?). So I look out my window, on a day like this one, and I think to myself, “Oh, sunshine! It can’t possibly be chilly!” And then you know what I do? Wear flip-flops.
I mean, it’s not Mother Nature’s fault I’m an idiot, but you have to blame somebody, right? So, if you’re reading this, MN, send a little snow my way, huh? And then maybe (maybe) I’ll pretend I care about Arbor Day.