Winter Wonderland. Not.

Apologies in advance to my local friends who ski, snowmobile and ice fish. I know you are loving this winter. Yay, you. However, I’m completely over it.  Done. Finished.  

I’ve heard many of you say, “we’re finally getting a real winter” or “at last we’re getting a winter like we used to”. And you are saying it like it’s a good thing. I just don’t get it.

I do understand that I live in the snow belt, and yes, I chose to live here. Technically I didn’t choose, it’s just where I was born, and my family roots are so deep here, moving would be like pulling out a stubborn weed. A poisonous weed that would make your hands break out after you tried to pull it. For my southern friends, a “snow belt” is where Jack Frost consistently lays down a blanket of snow so deep and harsh you permanently hate the color white and consider slitting your wrists. Unless you’re one of the people I mentioned above.  

In recent years, living here in the snowbelt really hasn’t been that bad. Heck, we’ve even seen actual grass on occasion during our winter seasons due to warmups in between snowfall. We’d get some snow, maybe even a snowstorm, then a couple of days later the temperature would rise above freezing and the snow would melt. It made it more bearable because you could trick yourself into believing spring was coming soon, in between the white stuff coating the ground. However, that fluctuation in temperature is very unpopular for our local ice fishermen (fisherpersons?) because with those conditions the ice doesn’t form solidly enough to be safe to venture out on. This year we haven’t had the warmups, so the ice is solid. Well ice fisher people, I hope you’re happy. Because you can certainly get out on the ice this year with your sleds, shanties and snowmobiles, dig your little holes and catch your fishy dinners. How joyful for you. 

I will admit the snow is pretty, especially when you get a sparkling dusting on Christmas Eve to deliver the coveted White Christmas. I can begrudgingly say it’s still somewhat pretty during one or two snowfalls a year. I’m tolerant like that. But this winter has been a perpetual snowstorm. It. Just. Won’t. Stop. It’s not pretty to me anymore. It reminds me of the winters of my childhood where we’d stick our feet in plastic bread wrappers before shoving them into our snow boots, bundle up and head outdoors to “bank” the house with snow as instructed by our father. For those of you unfamiliar with banking snow, you shovel snow around the base of a house to help insulate it. Especially when you grew up in a 100-year-old house that wasn’t well insulated. I think banking the house was sold to us as a “fun” chance to get outside in the snow. Spoiler alert, it wasn’t fun. At all. But those winters of my childhood were like this winter. I should be hardy. I should be used to it. I was raised here, for crying out loud. I even lived through the blizzard of ‘66. Although I was just a toddler during that storm, I’ve seen pictures of myself bundled up in my pink snowsuit on top of a snowbank that towered over our house. I looked happy. Lord knows why. 

I’m not a child now. I’m old and cranky. I can’t even tell you how many feet of snow we’ve had this winter. I just know it’s been way too many feet. The blast we had the night before last left us with another fresh foot of snow. That’s fun to wake up to. Thank God our son keeps our driveway plowed out, especially since we’re more than 700 feet from the road. But even with that, there’s still snow blowing and shoveling to be done. The snowplow can’t get it all, there’s still sidewalks and door entrances that must be cleared. If there was just a small amount of snow to be dealt with on those walkways and entrances, it wouldn’t really be bad. We’d just take that in stride. However, this year we’ve also had to worry about snow load. When several feet of snow fall, you must worry about your buildings caving in. Yes, that beautiful light fluffy stuff can cause havoc when it adds up. That means this year we’ve had to shovel our back deck off at least a half-dozen times. I know I’m not tall, but when it’s up to my waist out there on the deck...well, that’s still a lot to shovel. 

Then there’s the roofs. Roof shoveling, again for my southern friends, is a hellish chore. First, you must get up on the roof. So, in our case, step off our porch, sink up to your waist, try to figure out how to move your legs through the snow to make it to the ladder. Then climb up the ladder that’s leaning against the porch roof, and do it with a snow shovel in one hand. Oh, and do it without dying. Because a fall, even with snow on the ground, would not end well.  
I’ll dare say roof shoveling is an art. Our roofs are steel, (yes, for the snow load, but not this much of a snow load), so you must leave a fine layer of snow to cover the steel so that you don’t accidently slide down the roof like a pair of satin pajamas flying down a laundry chute. And I’ll tell you, roof shoveling is hard work. My roof shoveling stints usually end with me sitting on my butt up on the roof, surrounded by snow, trying to get my heart from beating out of my chest. The cherry on top of shoveling the roof? The fact that you then must move the snow you’ve shoveled off the roof when it lands on sidewalks and decks. Yeah, good times. 

The unbearably cold temperatures have also added to the joy that is this winter. You know it’s cold when you walk out the door and it’s actually painful. That cold blast of air hits you in the face, stinging your skin and freezing your nostrils shut as you navigate what looks like the frozen hedge maze from The Shining to reach your car. Knowing this, you try to dress for it. Heavy winter jacket, knit hat, gloves/mittens, maybe a scarf. Then you get to your car and attempt to drive it, bundled up like the Michelin man. The struggle is real. I mean, you could take off all the winter clothing when you get to your car to make it more comfortable to drive, if you want to shiver your teeth right out of your skull waiting for the heater to kick out enough heat to keep you warm. And yes, before you ask, I do have a car starter. But the signal doesn’t reach my car which is parked in our steel-walled steel-roofed pole barn/garage. And yes, I must park my car in there to eliminate one more obstacle so our driveway can be plowed. 

I’m longing for the days when I can shove my feet in a pair of flipflops and leave the house without an extra layer of clothing and comfortably walk from house to vehicle. Right now, that seems like a pipe dream. For now, I’ll sit in our cozy cabin, in front of a warm fire, and watch the snow come down outside, knowing tomorrow will bring another day of snow removal. In the meantime, I’ll be scrolling through weather reports trying to find the one I like the best, the one with the least amount of snow predicted. Once I find it, I’ll light some candles and throw salt over my shoulder in hopes that forecast is the right one.  

​Stay warm, my friends. And to all those dealing with this winter, try not to throw your back out or have a heart attack shoveling the white stuff, and may your vehicles stay on the roads and out of the snowbanks.  
 
 

Back deck once again filled with snow.