It has happened again. It seems like such a short time ago we were braving its fury, and now it is back, taunting me again with its despicable, fluffy nature.
Carolyn and I are alike in so many ways, but in others we are distinctly different. Take for example our feelings about this fluffy white junk (a.k.a. snow). Carolyn loves the snow. She talks about how pretty it is, how pristine the land looks glistening during a full moon. She likes to sip a cup of hot chocolate, wrapped in a blanket, and watch the snow fall. It is a feeling a bliss.
Meanwhile, while she is blissfully warm and dry, I’m out back shoveling the snow off the sidewalk and the driveway. Moving hay in the snow is also a royal pain in the rear end, and trying to get tractors started and unchain gates while wearing gloves is less than ideal.
So as these snowflakes begin to hit the ground, our opposing viewpoints again come to the fore. Carolyn bounces up and down like a toddler, bundles up in Carhartt’s, and starts making snow angels. I grumble as I fill up the thermos of coffee to keep me warm while I do the work outside that needs to be done.
As I shovel the snow away from the sidewalk, I’ll feel something cold smack me in the back. I’ll turn around to see another snowball smack me in the chest, with Carolyn giggling and grabbing for another snowball. And at last I’ll shrug off my antipathy towards the weather, grab a handful of snow, and return fire. Really, it’s not the temperature outside that keeps a person’s heart warm, but the person that you are with.