The first winter storm

Depending on exactly where you live, the Detroit area got 4-6 inches of snow yesterday. On the one hand, this is the latest I can recall (and I can recall about 48 of my 58 years) we've went before getting a significant snowfall. On the other hand, it's still snow, with all the problems that go along with it.

The older I get the less use I have for winter. It's just cold and slippery, and dirty once the pristine whiteness of newly fallen snow becomes mixed in with the grime of city streets and sidewalks. The irony, if irony is the right term, is that I'm really no fan of summer either. It's too hot and uncomfortable even with baseball and golf as saviors. I like May and September: warm enough that you can wear shorts and tees during the day, and maybe need one blanket at night.

I keep telling myself that I should be thankful that winter has been mild here, especially considering how badly beaten up the east coast and our neighbors south of here have had it. I remind myself hourly (okay, every few minutes) that we're actually only six weeks away from being past the worst of winter storms and temperatures. Yet when I look outside this morning and see winter's grip, to open my laptop to read the weather report for the next ten days (cold, too cold), such encouragement doesn't help.

Especially as I have to go outside and scrape off the cars in an hour.