I have to come clean with you, my six amazing readers. I have a secret that’s been burning a hole inside me like some holey-burny thing.
I love winter.
There – I’ve said it. Please don’t judge me. Please don’t make fun of me. (Or if you do, at least make it fairly sophisticated so I won’t understand you’re mocking me.) I love every single moment of every single winter. I love snow. I love cold weather. I love the bare trees and dormant grass. I love turtlenecks and flannel sheets. I love watching the ever-present rain. I adore, to the Nth degree, watching for snowflakes. I even love the short days and hunkering inside the house when it gets dark at 4:30 in the afternoon.
All of it. It’s awesome.
Why do I love it, you ask? Were you not paying attention? (See list above. ^) I love warm and comfy. I love comfort food, oh… and cooking comfort food, too. And the best thing about the winter? Without a doubt, the best thing EVER?
A Snow Day.
You don’t get Sun Days in the summer. Nor do you get Falling Leaf Days in the autumn. Can you imagine? No. But the anticipation of a Snow Day still makes my heart race and cheeks hurt from smiling. Anytime it’s close to 32 degrees, I’m staring up at the streetlight, hoping for the sight of a delicate flake gently falling to the ground.
We are coming out of a week of very cold temperatures, and the forecast for today included freezing rain. Okay, I’ll admit freezing rain is a pain in the ass no matter how you slice it. But still I popped up this morning and had to sprint to the window to see if the world outside was covered in a silvery, icy coating.
It wasn’t. Dammit. Optimism undaunted, my thoughts turn to willing an Arctic blast to wend its way south and to envelope most of Oregon in a blanket of winter-y goodness. If I concentrate REALLY hard, I’m sure I can make it happen.
Come on – help me. We can DO this!
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