Jackie Wells-Fauth
I read an article by someone the other day which began by stating, “I simply don’t do winter.” As a woman who was born at the height of June, I can identify. In fact, I think that perhaps “I don’t do winter” will be my rallying cry through the rest of January and February.
I was at the grocery store, standing in line watching the snow drizzling down outside, thinking how much I hate shoveling—or even sweeping snow—when I overheard the conversation of two women in front of me.
“They should just do it all at once and then be done with winter,” pronounced one.
This is brilliant. The longer I thought about this idea, the better I liked it. Imagine: a three—maybe five-day blizzard. Tons of snow, blowing, drifting and piling a winter’s worth of the white stuff. We would all stay at home (and of course, our power would stay on) and when the blizzard was over, we would sit in the house and watch the warming temperatures melt the snow (no shoveling, you understand) and when the roads and sidewalks were clear, we would spend the rest of the season snow free. Oh, and cold free too.
Now, of course, we would all be warned about the winter storm by our reliable weathermen, who never get it wrong. (I pause here for a cynical chuckle.) They would tell us precisely when the storm would come—somewhere between January 3 and March 1, I think. Then we would all crowd into the grocery store to stockpile food and the appliance stores to make sure we have generators and stove fuel. I know, I know, if the power doesn’t go out, we don’t need a wood-burning stove or fireplace but think how great it would be to sit in front of a roaring fire with the cocoa you were smart enough to buy and maybe some marshmallows! And let the one-shot blizzard do its best!
The rest of the “fourth season” as we shall call it, would consist of 40 degree temperatures, or as the teenagers refer to it, “shorts weather.” The roads would always be clear; there would be no snow dripping down day after day, making something for the wind to blow into all the places we don’t want it—which is everywhere!
Alas, instead of that idealistic fourth season outlook, we have snow, in varying amounts ranging from, “I’ll wait until it quits spitting before I sweep the deck,” all the way to, “Lord, shut the northern doors, I’m drowning in Canada’s snow hell.” Temperatures are terrible teases. If the weather is really cold, the wind always comes along to make it worse. Some days, however, it will warm up to 20 or 30 degrees, but that’s only to make us stick our heads out the door so it can hit us with another cold blast. “Just kidding, we’re going to keep hitting you with the cold until we freeze your nose off!” Welcome to the fourth season!
I’m convinced the vehicles in this family don’t appreciate the snow and cold any more than I do. When I go out to the garage and start the car, it always groans, “Oh, you have to be kidding, you want to drive somewhere in this weather? I’ll warn you now that in addition to sounding like I’m not going to start, when I finally do, I’m planning to slip all over the road. You really need to re-think this.”
Today, my campaign for “I don’t do winter” hit a new high. I was carrying in a gallon of filtered water from the garage, and I accidentally lost my grip. The plastic jug jumped gleefully to the ground, split wide open in the freezing temperatures and created a 50 cent skating rink in the middle of the driveway. And that was the last straw.
If someone needs to get ahold of this summer’s child, I will be back around the time of my birthday. In the meantime, you will find me spending the “fourth season” somewhere around the equator. Because you see, I simply don’t do winter!
dropsinthewell 