I know that this
thread will not sit well with everyone, but I will just come out and say it: I love cold weather weather and I miss it! I am thoroughly enjoying the weather from yesterday and this morning, and that may make me something of an oddball.
I have mentioned before that I am a misplaced Upper Midwesterner transplanted to the border South. Make no mistake, I love where I live-it is a great place to build a home and raise a family. It is one of the few places in it near the Midwest that has large amounts of forests and unbuilt, public
land.
I consider the area perfect but for one idiosyncratic reason—we simply don’t get
enough snow, and that which we get is not like the snow I remember growing up. Growing up in Central Illinois, snow was dry and always accompanied by wind. Snow drifting was just a normal part of snowfall. Roads didn’t get plowed until several inches piled up and we just drove on snowpack. And during a blizzard, the wind had a soft, almost pleasant howl that announced the arrival and presence of the winter storm.
When we get snow it is typically heavy, wet snow that falls straight down out of the sky with no wind at all. Most of my students have never ever heard of a snowdrift.
But today is a treat! The temperature is cold—negative 4 and dropping. The snow is dry and it is blowing and even drifting a little bit. And occasionally the wind blows just right that I can hear that soft howling wind wrapping itself around my house. I can’t identify the reason, but a winter wind with snow has a softer sound than a summer wind of the same speed, even if it carries no rain—I have no explanation.
And as a bonus. I just got back from giving our dog her pre-dawn walk. I really bundled and layered up—this was drilled into me from a young age from my Minnesotan parents—and stepped out into the early pre-dawn darkness and Northern-like temperatures. While most of my body was plenty warm, my just a bit of my face felt the full blast the winter bite. Good. I like that reminder that cold temperatures still exist.
My dog and I ventured off down the road and found it unplowed—yet another bonus for me. Around here, the
local road authorities are so phobic about snow on roads that they plow if there is so mulch as a single flake of snow on the road. Actually it looks like the road had already been plowed—at the one-flake level—and some mild drifting had blown back over. It was nice. The snow was cold and solid, supporting my weight. My footsteps left a nice crunch in the air. The wind continued its soft, gentle howl. And for the first time in decades, this Northern transplant has felt a bit of a Northern winter.
As I finish up this post, I am sitting back inside my house, bundled under blankets, the room dimly lit by the ample warmth of my ventless fireplace which dumps all its heat into the house—none escapes. I can sit, cozy, drinking my hot
coffee with the thought of the walk in bitter cold still fresh in my mind.
I am thankful.
Eric