As a child growing up in the Carolinas, I loved the snow! Or at least I loved the prospect of snow. It never really snowed all that much and when it did, it was the occasion for great celebration.
Winter in the South can be disconcerting. One day it may be 70 degrees and the next it might plummet into the teens. You really never know what to expect. Most of the time, things settle in at around 40 degrees or so … not really “Winter” by the standards of a great many people, but it’s what we get here.
Growing up, I dreamed of a huge snowfall. Snow so deep that it drifted up over the window sills, completely blanketing the rooftops and thickly frosting the trees. Of course it never happened the way I dreamed it. We actually got a good snow every couple of years … but 6-8 inches or so was a big one!
In my innocence, I thought it was just a matter of time before that really, really huge one came along, not fully understanding the long odds against conditions ever coming together to produce the type of snowfall that I saw in my dreams … The type of snow that people from other parts of the country took for granted … and many who lived there actually seemed to dread.
That’s what is attractive about the South to a great many people who live elsewhere … the opportunity to enjoy a temperate climate instead of the bitter cold. People move here from places to the North in order to escape Winter. I was always the opposite. I wanted to live in a place where it snowed … and snowed a LOT!
Sadly, as I got older my fascination with snow slowly subsided. As an adult, I found that even a slight coating of snow and ice made driving dangerous and getting to work difficult. Unlike school in my childhood days, work didn’t close down at the slightest hint of frozen precipitation and I had to be there regardless of any desire I might have to stay home.
For most of my life since childhood, circumstances have caused me to dread snow, just like those Yankees who migrate down here for job opportunities or retirement. Now, I’ve become like them. I watch the weather forecast closely when snow is predicted, knowing the complications it will cause not only for me getting to work, but for the productive and efficient operation of the work that I do when I get there.
This all stinks!!
I want to love snow again … I want to relish the thought of being socked in for a day or two while the world slows to a standstill. I want to sit by the fire with a cup of coffee and gaze out the window as the flakes fall for hours and the accumulation grows. I want to listen to the glorious muffled silence that envelops the neighborhood, enabling me to hear the joyous shouts of kids having a snowball fight or speeding down the hill on a sled blocks away.
I don’t necessarily want to BE that young again … I just want to FEEL that way.
Is that too much to ask?