Why is my love for snow and cold weather such a rare one? I grew up with it, saw it occasionally during the first time I lived in North Carolina, and when I lived in Massachusetts from 2016 until 2021. I had a snow blower, shovels, and boots, and although I complained and swore at it, I miss it.
Although it was over eighty degrees yesterday, in our weather outlook, I saw snow in the forecast for next week, but it changed to rain quickly. I was disappointed. Today, it’s forty-three degrees. I do love how in North Carolina, we have breaks from the cold air so we can spend more time outside breathing fresh air, but I wish it would snow a little more than it does.
I don’t miss the week-long shivering or the muddy snow that needed to be removed once, then again after the plow trucks went by. I also don’t miss letting my car run for half an hour in an attempt to melt the thick ice on the windshield. And although it becomes old after a long while, I still stand by my love for it.
What I do miss is stacking firewood, lighting a fire in the basement wood stove, and watching the snow fall from inside a warm house. I miss the quiet you hear when the ground is covered with snow. I miss the trees covered in snow, how clean the first snowfall of the season is, and the look on the dogs’ faces when they ran outside and stepped into it, their excitement.
The pups would go outside and their feet would get clean from the white crystals. The snow also made them frisky. I know my girl, Gisele, misses it like me, but she and I understand the rarity of the opinion of loving snow, so we will seek it in the mountains one day and try to keep our opinions to ourselves.
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