Yesterday morning, the snow fell incessantly.
For the remainder of the day, a wintry mix pelted that freshly fallen snow.
The result? Soft, fluffy snow--at least that's what it looked like. The deceptively innocent-looking snow was all crunchy ice.
Unfortunately, my apartment community doesn't do an excellent job ensuring that the sidewalks and roads are safe. My walks outside this winter have been rather precarious because of the ice. This winter has been quite long indeed.
But like all things, it'll come to a pass. People often ask me why I relocated from sunny California (not really, since San Francisco's main weather is foggy) to the Northeast. I always respond with because I love the novelty of having four distinct seasons.
It's because the seasons represent the passage of time. They are a persistent reminder that different experiences exist in distinct windows of time, encouraging me to take advantage of the today. (No ice on the walkways on this unseasonal 35-degree day? Time for a run!)
I feel like human desire reflects the vacuum in our lives. When it's summer, I want the snow. In the winter, I want the sun. I want what I can't have, but when weather is out of our control, cultivating a mental flexibility is the only way to be happy. As a matter of fact, sometimes it's easier to have my decisions made for me (the only outdoor sport to do? ski/snowboard!). This hearkens to the homesteading or small town cultures that enjoy the few pleasures they have, whether it's football or the annual jazz festival.