Most years in the Pacific Northwest, winter is no more than an intriguing concept viewed on screens, or listened to sympathetically over telephones. (Summer too, for that matter.) We are a mild people in a mild climate. So say I, who moved there for that very mildness. So it’s been kind of fun this week, remembering what winter is all about. See how many of these wintry facets you can relate to.
Wonderful: snow sports. We never were downhill skiers and these days we don’t XC much either, but hey—we didn’t schlep these snowshoes across the country for nothing!

Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!

Annoying: all those LAYERS you have to put on just to go outside! Fleece vest, parka, waterproof pants, gaiters, gloves, hat, scarf…all of which makes coming back in for a quick pee a matter of deep thought.

The Mate, wondering if taking a pee stop is even worth the trouble.

Wonderful: eating snow.

Annoying: digging out your car.

Can you tell I took this from indoors? I mean, why should both of us freeze our butts? (Thanks, babe.)

Wonderful: being snowed in when being snowed in costs you nothing at all. On our cousins’ farm in southern Vermont, even the chickens seemed to agree.

Nope, still don’t feel like going for a walk. Not till they invent chicken snowshoes.

Sheep are tougher than chickens. And people.

Annoying: avoiding ice, whether on foot, ski or wheel.
(Speaking of ice, here was our first reminded of how rough winter could be: these mountainous chunks of river ice flooded up by the Susquehanna in Wilkes-Barre):

Freezing AND flooding? Rough life.

I could add some other sweet memories from childhood: making molasses candy in the snow; cuddling up with hot water bottles, and of course—snowmen and snowball fights! But since this particular snowstorm refused to let up enough for those latter activities, sorry; they are pictured only in my brain.

As we make the Big Right a Turn to begin our westward, homeward journey,I’ll end with the last verse of a song I wrote last year after visiting snowy Vermont:

I’m going back to the land of wet,
No winter wonderland regret.
They don’t sell postcards of the rain,
But what you see is what you get.