My sister in Fairfax County, Virginia has 30 inches of snow outside her door. My son in Arlington hasn’t been to his office for a week. Maureen, blogger/poet extraordinaire who also lives in Arlington, has been basking in her snowboundedness, digging into the stacks of compelling books that are duly displayed on every floor of her home. (I was there and saw more new titles that I wanted to read than I would find at my favorite bookstore.)
And Boston? We only got a dusting. The vagaries of weather.
Which one cannot help but contemplate, especially after returning from 10 exquisitely sunny days in California. When I mentioned this to Cindy, sage and dear friend, I appreciated her wisdom:
I agree with you about the West Coast. I’m sorry, but I love the winter. It draws me inward. I love how the seasons make me feel things. Hunker down. Sleep 10 hours. A cold bright sunrise. I like how silent the winter is. How it seems to freeze sound. Spring is not a given here. It is well earned. The ice crusted earth creates stronger spouts…we have to be heartier to endure what it takes to break through to the sun. Sure, it’s fun to complain. That is what we do. How we connect.
How can those sun block slathered Californians ever be trusted to know real life when they never have to earn a great day?
So east coasters, earn those great days ahead.