Snow and introversion

Confession: I love winter.

I love snow and hot beverages and wooly socks. In winter, everyone wears my preferred color palette (black and gray). In winter, no one demands you come out instead of reading. In winter, the air is crisp and clear and the night sky is incredible.

Maryland sits in the middle of the East Coast so winter can be hit or miss for us–especially as the planet warms. I can remember more than one childhood when we wore shorts and went rollerblading in January. On the other hand, every four years or so, we seem to get walloped with region-crippling snowstorms. We’re staring down another storm right now, which is supposed to drop about half a foot. It wouldn’t be a lot in Buffalo or Chicago or Boston but it’s a lot here. We don’t have the mentality or the infrastructure for much snow.

Adulthood complicates one’s relationship with winter somewhat. When I worked an hour away, snow was a hassle or even a danger. My first car was totaled because of an early morning freak snowstorm. I’ve gotten stubborn about driving in inclement weather since then. It rarely seems worth it. And that’s a luxury I’m lucky to have, I know. It makes me angry when people’s employers demand they come in regardless of the weather. If you’re nonessential personnel, it’s unnecessary. I guess if you live nearby, it’s not so bad–I wouldn’t mind going into town here. But I live in a commuter state. Getting to work is an adventure even when it’s sunny and dry.

At the moment, I don’t resent snow. I adore it. Everything gets quiet during the snow. Everything slows. It’s okay not to go anywhere. Just stay in. Have some tea.

January and February can be dismal months. It’s gray and muddy and often bleak–especially out in the country. People get sick and sad. Depressing. I do my fair share of complaining. I think sometimes that if I lived in a city, I would go out more in winter. (I probably wouldn’t.)

But I think there might be something healing in winter. The pressure’s off. It’s okay to cancel plans (I love canceling plans). There’s time to regroup. To recharge. To think about things. And at the end of it–with some luck and work–we’re ready for spring.

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2 thoughts on “Snow and introversion

  1. Winter’s not so bad when a) it lasts less half the year and b) as you say, you don’t have to go anywhere. I live in Tucson now, but when I lived in Vermont, I constantly dreaded sliding backwards down some crazy steep hill into a snow bank—or off a cliff. And that was with four-wheel drive and snow tires. I don’t miss that. But I do miss those bright sunny days just after a snow storm, when the snow is still pristine. And the trees covered in glittery icicles and bowing from the weight. That was so beautiful.

    • Vermont is gorgeous but I can’t quite imagine living there. (I’ve only even been in the spring and summer.) The winter does sound lovely, if rather inconvenient. 😉

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