We’ve had unusually warm weather this past week and, when I took our puppy outside at 6:30 the other morning, it was unbelievably balmy. For a moment, I could believe we were living in the south. Or pretend that we were on vacation, maybe. But certainly this wasn’t the Midwest, with its finicky warm-then-cold and sunny-turned-rainy springs. Just the week before, in fact, I’d had to run to the basement to pull out a sweater for a surprise 50* day. But on this particular morning, there wasn’t a bit of frost in sight; at 6:30, the thermometer had already passed 70*. It was warm, it was quiet, and it was a moment of bliss.
When we first moved to the Midwest, I laughed at the Snowbirds. I didn’t understand why anyone would leave their home for 2-3 months of every year and head to Florida or Arizona for the winter. Didn’t they love the way the sparkling snow blanketed the trees? Didn’t they know that tulips and daffodils were right around the corner? If they could’ve read my mind, I know now that they would’ve laughed at my naiveté. They would’ve had themselves a good, hearty laugh at how far away that corner really was. And now? Ah, now I envy them. In the bitter dark of February, when our temperaments are as icy as the roads, I dream of the surf and the sand and envy those lucky mid-winter escapees.
My kids aren’t there yet. For them, more snow = more fun. Skiing, sledding, and the wonderful possibility of a snow day off of school keep them happy despite the frigid temps. They’re accustomed, now, to the tedium of boots, snowpants, hats, gloves, and coats. It’s a white wonderland to them, and thank goodness. I’m not sure the winter would be bearable otherwise.
And if we are, indeed, shaped by our environments, I think the kids who grow up here will be awfully hardy in 20 years. I wouldn’t even be surprised if they’re able to endure more of life’s hassles, more evenly, than other who never had to struggle with cold wrists when the gloves and coat sleeves don’t quite meet.
How’s that for finding a silver lining in a snowy cloud?
As someone who keenly remembers cold wrists where sleeves and mittens fail to meet, I second that notion!