I saw pictures of friends’ snow-covered backyards on Facebook this morning (they live in the Midwest), and I realized, with a start, that the first day of winter in North America—December 22—is one month away.
Winter is coming, people.
Help us all.
I write the word winter, but here in New England, it’s likely more accurate to use the term “Snowmaggedon.” It was my favorite saying from the winter of 2014-2015 when Boston received more than 110 inches of snow. That was the season of a never-ending onslaught from Mother Nature, one that nobody wants to repeat.
I didn’t mind the snow, as much as the frequency of the storms: we never caught a break. A storm would hit, and another would follow immediately afterward. We had snow day after snow day from school, and we all went a bit stir crazy from being trapped inside so much. There was snow everywhere, parking was impossible in the city, and walking on the sidewalks was treacherous.
But another winter? Except for moving away from New England, there’s no way to avoid it.
Since I am not moving to California (earthquakes) or Florida (sinkholes), I’m getting ready. I bought a new winter coat, a long one that goes past my knees, and I dug out our hats and gloves. I’m asking Santa for slippers and flannel pajamas for Christmas, and I’m making sure our house is well stocked with hot cocoa. In other words, bring it on!
P.S. I’ve written a bit about snow—especially how it connects with parenting here on Red Shutters, including: