A friend of mine–who lives here, but isn’t from here (obviously)–posted on Facebook this morning:
My impersonation of most of North Carolina right now: “Winter is lasting for TWO weeks this year! George R. R. Martin was right! I wish it was humid and sweaty and terrible like it always is!” I love you nutty people, even if I don’t understand you.
I don’t know who to side with, or which me from which of the many places I’ve lived will win out, when it comes to the snow. The part of me that survived living in the Heart of Winter (that’s upstate New York, by the way) wants to be contemptuous of North Carolina’s lack of fortitude when confronted with snow. On the other hand, I have long been convinced that the three winters I spent in upstate New York are winter enough for a lifetime, and, quite frankly, it takes some serious grit (and central air conditioning and three showers a day) to survive summer here.
I have been doing my best to enjoy the snow. Today I worked from our living room couch, curled up with Sasso and my laptop, watching the snow drift slowly and silently through the trees, and marveled at my good fortune. At lunch we ambled through the forest. It was beautiful and unspoiled and, above all, quiet.
When evening tiptoed in, the snow glowed in the dimming light.
All was peaceful . . . except for me, scraping my shovel on the uneven driveway. And Sasso, who wanted to PLAY.