I Hate Winter

I don't actually hate the winter, but this constant dreary weather and its accompanying death-like landscapes are starting to wear thin. Today was another stormy day; days when cheap umbrellas from the drug store were whipped inside out from the merciless wind gales and rendered useless within minutes of stepping outside. A day when rains bore down and ruined expensive hair blowouts within minutes of exposure. A day where a crowded subway smelt of wet dog and mildewy feet. These things all seem the hallmark of the furtive nature of Winter.

I was in our New Jersey office today and saw Christo. He's utterly fed up with Winter. He expressed the same frustration as cited above and I get it. After a few years of trading Californian winters for the reality of East Coast living, I understand the nature of living though a different kind of winter. It can be brutal, depressing, dark.

When I first moved here in the late 90s, natives told me that we "earn the spring." I confess when I first heard that, I assumed my narrators were wimps. How bad can a bit of snow can be? Snow for me was a novelty (it still is, actually). Having lived through multiple winters, I now comprehend the concept. One must suffer, in an almost Boris Pasternak fashion, to truly appreciate the rebirth of the earth. When the first buds start to sprout come late April there's such a feeling of exhilaration and of surprise. To see new green growth is joyous. I am almost there now. And obviously, this is how we earn it.

I'm looking at the rain pouring down. I feel the chill in my bones. I also see the nights growing longer and I am hopeful.