How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Snow
February 6, 2010
I’m a cold-natured person. I have more blankets than any 22-year-old should and I remain under said blankets year-round. Well, not all of them at the same time, but you get the picture.
I’m the girl that on those few-and-far-between snow days in Arkansas would stay inside reading a book and drinking hot chocolate while my friends ran around outside attempting to build snowmen. I scorned the winter months and vowed to never live anywhere with cold weather. And then I moved to Syracuse, NY, one of the snowiest places in the U.S.
Riding back from my internship in New York City this week, I was looking out the bus window at the snow covered pastures (yes, there are pastures in New York) and frozen streams and realized something: I really like both the snow and the cold. I actually enjoy wearing leggings under my jeans and no less than two pairs of socks. I’ve even started to think that I look cute in my parka that I lovingly call “the big puffy.”
I’ve come to find that the cold weather is refreshing and invigorating on my walk to campus in the mornings. I love feeling the crunch of the snow under my boots and the way the morning sun makes the fresh snow sparkle. I enjoy walking out of a warm building and feeling the cold as it hits my face and turns my breath to vapor.
Even more, I love watching my neighbors’ dogs on their early morning walks–I think they love the snow more than anyone else. They pull their owners forward, begging them to let them go faster so they can run through the snow, their eyes glinting with excitement. And there’s nothing more precious than paw prints in the snow.
Although my heart still belongs in the South, (which has, incidentally, been receiving a good amount of snow this year!) I really think I could live somewhere with a primarily cold climate. Surprised? I am too.