The certain thing about New England is that the weather is uncertain. My uncle likes to quote a phrase, “If you don’t like the weather just wait a minute.” That is what it’s like here: sunny and clear one day, dark and brooding another, temperatures can dip or climb by 20 degrees from day to day.
This winter has been particularly perplexing. There was snow on the ground for Halloween but nothing for Christmas. It was a green and brown, but not white, Christmas. The temperatures have been mostly in the 40s and 50s while occasionally dipping into the 30s. (Ok, we did have one day in the single digits but no snow that day.) As a transplant from S. Cal, I’m perfectly happy if winter continues this way. Though it’s odd feeling like we’re stuck in perpetual fall, I can’t complain.
It’s a completely different story for my Boston born kids. With every day and week that passes, my oldest despairingly groans, “We’ll never get snow! I’ll have to wait until next year to play in the snow!” To him, winter means snowballs, forts, snow pants, gloves and, very importantly, hot chocolate. (While snow for e and I means shoveling, snow blowing, slick roads, heaps of wet laundry and ice dams.)
Today is a different story. We have SNOW and more than a mere dusting. It’s not as much as the snow-mageddon of last year but certainly enough to make my oldest happy. He is currently working on building an igloo and giving up some video game time to do so. (That’s saying something.) He’s determined to finish his project because on Monday temperatures could hit the 50s. What a strange winter this is.
No Comments on "the winter of our discombobulation"