Congealed Watery Particles

Jack. Charming day it has been, Miss Fairfax.

Gwendolen. Pray don’t talk to me about the weather, Mr. Worthing. Whenever people talk to me about the weather, I always feel quite certain that they mean something else. And that makes me so nervous.

Jack. I do mean something else.

Gwendolen. I thought so. In fact, I am never wrong.

--Act I of The Importance of Being Earnest (Part 2), by Oscar Wilde

I do mean to talk about something else other than weather.

I thought so. In fact, I am never wrong when expressing my love of snow.

Snow! Yes...talking about weather is boring beyond belief...but sometimes, Mother Nature brings us breathtaking beauty. As in the case of falling snow. I am mesmerized when I watch it falling down, coating the whole world white around me.

It is peaceful, quiet. When I am inside, I love to look out the window to watch. When I am outside, I am filled with wonder. Except perhaps during those times when I had to drive home during a blizzard--thanks to my former company, I, which seemed to be the last employer in town to let its employees go home in inclement weather without fail.

What can be more fun than stomping around in snow?! Making a snowman or snowlady?:-) If it's gonna be bitterly cold out there, might as well have some fun! You can't build a snowman in summer!

I could easily complain about bitter cold. But I don't like to complain. It's enough to hear other people waste their breath to complain. Just layer up: put on more clothes if you have to go outside, for goodness sakes! Or is it goodness' sake? Whatever!

On the other hand, you would not want to be around me in the heat of summer. Excessive heat will put me in a foul mood in no time at all. Hot weather makes me HOT tempered!%-0 With heat, there's nowhere to go, especially if you live in a humid climate. Unlike winter, where you can put on more clothing to stay warm--in summer, you practically have to strip to cool off! You can go into an air-conditioned room, but often, people will put their a/c on full blast...and then you get cold because you don't have much clothes on to start!

It is miserable to be hot and sweaty and clammy. In my mind, I think: is this what it's like in the fiery depths of Hell, if indeed it does exist? It's hard to be productive, mentally or physically, when you're hot and bothered.

On the other hand, when you're shivering in the cold, you can at least move around to generate heat! When you're hot, you feel like a slug. A useless lump on a log. If you're home, you can force yourself to do unpleasant household tasks for the sake of keeping warm--or engage in that long-delayed exercise routine you promised yourself because you lack self-discipline (me!). OR, sit and cuddle in your favorite chair or sofa and escape into your favorite book.:-)

Can you tell I'm a winter person? For all my shivering, I'd sooner put up with freezing rain, sleet, snow and ice than hot, humid weather. Yes! Even ice. Ice that caused my car wheels to slide, ice that made me fall not once, but three times in my 13 years of living on the east coast. I'd rather be shivering and jumping around, than feel like a crumpled piece of paper wilting under the intense heat and humidity of a summer sun. Any day.

In Dante's Inferno, the bottom part of Hell was actually COLD! The icy Ninth Circle. I was quite surprised to read that. If you feel like scaring yourself, read Dante's Inferno, part of his The Divine Comedy. I thought it was scarier than any Stephen King novel I read. It is kind of funny, in a very morbid way. %-0 I only had to put it down several times because parts of it were gruesome in detail.

Snow, snow, snow! Come and get me! Paint the place white! Decorate my coat and boots with fluffy, white flakes! Mesmerize me! But don't make me slip and trip (again)!

******

Snow flakes

I counted till they danced so
Their slippers leaped the town,
And then I took a pencil
To note the rebels down.
And then they grew so jolly
I did resign the prig,
And ten of my once stately toes
Are marshalled for a jig!

--Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)