It’s 15 May and I woke up to snow. I think most people did in Western PA. And we probably all thought it was ridiculous. It also made me homesick.
I grew up in Upstate New York. Way upstate. I used to tell people that, where I lived, the first snow came in October and the last was in May. Do the math on that and you’re looking at eight months of snow. Not constant, not always very deep, but still eight months with the potential for snow. We’d have forty below a few times. Quite a few mornings I wasn’t sure my car would start. You just bundled up and went about your business. As kids, we loved it. We didn’t get a lot of snow days because we were built for it. My mom taught in a city school and the cold or ice could close them down because the kids walked, but our school buses ran out in the sticks. The back roads actually got wider with the plows pushing the snow back.
It amazes me what people will get used to. It also amazes me how quickly we acclimate. The fifty degrees that felt so nice a month ago felt pretty darn chilly yesterday. The thirty-seven this morning was downright cold. If our wood furnace can get the house to sixty-seven, it feels toasty in the house. I used to hide under the blankets at seventy-two.
Before long, days like this will be a memory. We’ll be sweating and wishing for colder nights.
I can’t wait.