Life is like a 5th grade slumber party: a mix of love, friendship, gossip, food, laughs, heartache, and cute pajamas.
Saturday, January 08, 2011
Shorty's Sense of Snow
Folks either love it or hate it. There is no middle ground. Snow brings out the cheerleader or the protester in people.
Me? Oh, honey, I'm leading the band marching out in front of the cheerleaders. I. Love. Snow. Love it. Can't get enough November through February.
Snowfall is always thrilling to me. I'm sure it harks back to the childhood anticipation of no-school "snow days" and the chance to spend a day or two rolling around in the cold, white stuff. Time was spent alternately freezing as we played outside and warming up with hot chocolate and Campbell's Soup once we were back in the house. Back and forth, back and forth. Freezing, warm. Freezing, warm. There's something so energizing and comforting in the process.
Then again, I don't hate cold weather like some folks do. I love the freshness of it. Even in a big city, the air seems brighter and more appealing than the stale, damp awfulness of summer heat. It's the one time of year that I'm comfortable with the temperature. For most people 98.6 is normal; for me, it's 99.4 (just ask my doctor and the Red Cross). Since I naturally run hotter than the rest of the population, I welcome a good thermometer plunge.
I have more creative energy in winter. Maybe it's the sharpness of the air outside that wakes up lethargic brain cells. Maybe it's permission from the weather-gods to spend time inside and dream outrageously. Maybe it's that soups, stews, and hot chocolate inspire me more than sterile green salads. Whatever.
Once February's over and the calendar says March? My snow-love is put away until November. But right now my calendar says January.
So, shake those flakes from the clouds. Paint bare tree branches with a layer of white. Give me something to scrunch my boots through. Offer me the chance (even at my advanced age) to make snow angels, snowballs, and snowmen. Inspire me. Delight me.