This morning there was ice on the cars and ice on the grass. Ice on the roofs of houses.
I enjoy the cold, and I sometimes wish I could live somewhere that it actually snowed. Though I am often told by people who live in the cold places that live in the snowy places that I will soon tire of it if I did live in a colder pace. Snow becomes a nuisance, not something beautiful to look at.
I think It would be lovely to wake up to a white world.
Not a slushy, mushy, slur on a city streat kind of snowy day, but to live off the beaten path and to wake up with a white field, a cold blanket and snow covered trees.
I could see myself suiting up and walking a snow lined path in the woods. My cheeks and nose would turn red, I would puff out clouds of steam with every breath.
When I got tired of walking I would retreat to my house, where I would have a fire to warm myself by. A hot cup of coffee to warm my hands, a cat to warm my lap.
I sleep better in the cold, and look forward to winter every year. Summer leaves me awake for long sweaty hours, even with AC on I can never get cool enough to sleep.
It may be in the lower 30s around here, but I will sleep with a fan blowing on me, bundled under blankets, and I will sleep the deepest, nicest sleep of the year.
That is, if the boys don’t wake up.
My sons do not share my love of the cold. If they wake up uncovered, which happens often with the little one, they will cry out for me to come cover them, to warm them.
It snowed here the year my oldest was born. 6 years ago. Just a light dusting.
It would be nice to have it again.
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