For many years, my general feeling towards winter could be summed up in one syllable: “meh.”
Don’t get me wrong, as a kid I relished each and every snow day. We had a fantastic sledding hill right in our yard, so flinging myself downhill at frightening speeds was never more then a few steps and a few layers of clothing away. As much as I delighted in the adventure that was sledding and snowman-making, I was equally stoked to come inside, shed all the heavy, wet and cold layers, and wrap my hands around a warm mug of hot chocolate. With marshmallows.
As you get older though, snow becomes less about fun and more about work. When you start having to shovel the driveway at 5 AM in the morning so you can slide to work in a 1-ton “sleigh”(also known as a car), the white stuff loses its magic and become more of a burden to be feared and dreaded then relished and enjoyed. Sure, things like snowblowers and 4-wheel drive make it’s consequences a little less burdensome, but its never quite the same.
Unless you’re really into snowsports.
Here in the northeast where I live, we have winter. In fact, we’re kind of famous for our snowy and cold winters. So much so that the history of many snowsports in the U.S. has its origins somewhere in the Northeast. Yes, we have a long, proud tradition of folks who made lemonade out of their lemons by cutting ski trails into the mountains and more recently, keeping Subaru in business.
For this reason, I am convinced that snow can be magical again, you just have to choose to enjoy it. I am adamant that people who live in the Northeast and complain about snow should do one of two things:
- Move. Somewhere in the South so you can quit whining about snow.
- Take up a snowsport so you can quit whining about snow.*