Winter is probably my least favorite season of the year. I don’t like being cold, snow sports are far from being my thing, my dog often refuses to pee because of the low, low temperature, and I get at least two awful colds before spring finally arrives (though this is less the fault of the season than of the public. The horrible, disgusting public.)
Even so, I get annoyed when people overly complain about the season, wishing for snow to never appear, that it should stay 60 degrees at all times. As much as winter drives me to madness, I feel like a lot of these people are really missing out on some pretty good things.
- Snow storms. I’ve made it clear how much I love bad weather, the coziness of it as I sit on the couch with a cup of tea, or huddle at my desk with some coffee (always with the caffeine). When everyone else is freaking out and panicking about the possibility of snow storms, I scour the weather forecast hoping that a storm will come, that feet of the stuff will dump on the ground. I feel a little guilty when I think about it too much, since I know I’m lucky to not have to worry about shelter or food or heat or even entertainment, but I yearn for blizzards all the same.
- The actual snow. It’s cold. It slows my car down. My dog’s too short to run in it when there’s more than 6 inches on the ground. But goodness it’s pretty, and there are few things more perfect than a swath of shining white as yet unmarred by boots and paws.
- My dog loves it. It’s too tall for her now, and she gets cold way too fast, but one of my top ten favorite things to watch is her, bounding through chest high snow, as awkward as a seal on a beach.
- The mornings. I like waking up when it’s still dark. There’s something calm and comforting about that, like the early morning is trying to wrap me up in a blanket. In the summer, the sun rises too early, and I basically have to be in a bout of insomnia to be up and moving around before the sun rises, but in the winter, the timing is perfect.
- The appreciation. I’m human. As much as I roll my eyes at the complainers, by the end of February I’m done. Things are turning to gray slush, and I feel perpetually damp. After suffering through all of that, the spotty green of buds just starting to open on all the trees spreads a small simple bit of hope inside.
What do you like about winter? (Please don’t tell me nothing.)