This week the big news (because I’m taking a much-needed break from the outrage of politics) is the HUGE snow in New England. Our northeastern friends are dealing with as much as two feet of snow, and quite frankly I’m jealous.
Here we are in the Midwest with naked trees, brown grass, and temperatures that are spring-like warm. Yet spring is really too far off to contemplate, so we’re stuck with the ugliness of winter without any of the interesting bits. I have guilt because the weather’s so nice I really should be out raking up the mountains of crunchy leaves that didn’t jettison from our oak trees until late December. I’m disappointed because it’s not much fun curling up in the evening with a blanket and a cup of tea when we had the windows open part of the day. No pleasing some people, huh?
I would actually enjoy the excitement of stocking up on milk and eggs, planning meals that could be prepared on our gas stove when the power goes out, holing up for a day or so before a kind friend drops by with his snow blower to set us free. A day of tea, reading, card games by candlelight, and knitting. And picturing myself as the intrepid Laura Ingalls, surviving the “Long Winter.” In my blizzard fantasy, the whole family would be there with me, cuddling up for warmth and rushing to the window every few minutes to stare at the beauty of the dazzling white drifts.
So I say to our New England neighbors, “Good luck and enjoy!” And please send some of that blizzard our way!