I stepped out into the darkness this morning — we’re trapped at home in another wet, sloppy snowstorm.
Then I read this account of a Midwestern winter romance.
“When I’m around you, I can’t think straight,” he said. Actually, it was hypothermia.
It’s all too true. Every word of it.
It applies equally well to New England. Believe me, I’ve lived in both places.
I live in NYC. That white stuff is called snow and we might have it around for a week .
Location is everything. I’ve lived all my life in lowland California, either the San Francisco Bay Area or the Central Valley. Husband grew up in various places around the Pacific Rim, the son of a US Navy sailor, rarely living more than an hour from the climate-moderating Pacific Ocean. We have a house in the Sierra Nevada mountains, where we plan to retire full time in a couple of years. What we’ve discovered is that we were so, so naïve about snow, ice, how and where it collects around the house, how to manage it, and how to deal with winter in general.
Sigh. We’ve learned and are learning.
We have a housemate who grew up in Michigan and Colorado. Discussing some of our issues with her over the past few years, she was astonished at our ignorance. Didn’t EVERYONE know how to deal with snow and ice?