I love snow.
Yes, I really do.
I love the purity of a fresh snow fall. The way the trees glisten. The sparkles of ice crusting the top of a surface. I even love shoveling. Hey, I call it exercise for the day. Really. It’s a great cardio-vascular workout.
I have had snow envy as the East Coast got more than a foot of snow. We only had one snowstorm like that while I lived in Washington, D.C. Is that fair? No! Then there was the blizzard a week ago that dumped on Colorado, Nebraska, and other points. Again with the not being able to get outside of your home for at least a day because the snow had drifted halfway up the door.
Couldn’t we have that in Indiana? Just one good, make you stay at home, curl up with the family and a stack of good books, kind of snow?
It would make my winter complete. Really.
I like snow that much.
Not on the fifth or sixth snowfall that requires shoveling, I get a little depressed, but this year, I’ve shoveled twice. Two times. Dos. That’s not enough. At least not for this girl who vividly remembers her first winter in Nebraska with the piles of snow pushed into small mountains in the alley. Who remembers doing all kinds of dangerous things as she played on said mountain and navigated tunnels through it with her siblings and neighbor kids. (Yes, as an adult I know that’s not safe, but as a kid, it was memory-making at its best!)
There’s something about the bite of cold that chills your fingers through thick gloves, that nips your nose until you look like you could give Rudolph a run for his money. That feel of a shovel cutting through the snow and making a path for those you love.
All I want this winter is one last good, heavy, snow hurrah. Is that too much?
I hope not! 🙂
Are you as in love with snow as I am? You’re not? I’m so sorry 🙂