Putting together snow forts, creating sledding paths and starting a snowball fight are all fun things to do, and when I was a kid I was all over that. Plus a snow day meant no school, no homework (unless I “forgot” to do it the night before) and no desire to stay inside.
Even after I donned the cap and gown and graduated I still loved snow. Driving around in it can be an adventure, and I’m all about the adventure. Whether it was in my six-cylinder, rear-wheel drive Mustang (no lie – best car I’ve driven in the snow) or one of my front-wheel drive four-bangers it was fun learning how to control the car when the back-end goes fishtailing or the whole car starts going sideways.
And the love of snow continued once I started to get into photography. The fresh, clean look of a brand new snow is unrivaled – especially if the sun were shining, as well. Throw in icicles on the limbs of snow-covered trees and awesome.
Now…not so much. I don’t mind the first snow of the season – I still take pictures (have you checked out Paul Gillespie Photography?) and the adventure of driving is still there (although less-so now that I’ve had my HHR for three and-a-half years and have her handling down to a science). And even if it’s on the better side of a foot in depth watching the kids have fun in it while I’m trapped inside with a horrible Internet connection (thanks, AT&T) I can deal with it.
We’re past that point.
We’re WELL past that point, in fact.
We got into the “it’s no longer fun” piece of snow about the time the second storm in a week hit and there was a potential for cancellation of another one of my weekly social outings. And right now we’re so far past the point of loving snow that I’ve given up my career search and have decided to focus 100% of my efforts on mastering weather control so I can prevent it from falling ever again (and keep the temp at a nice 75 degrees year-round so I can spend even MORE time out at Volleyball Beach).
I don’t mind it so much today since I’m sitting at Homer’s Coffee House enjoying a bottomless cup of Guatemala coffee and talking with the best baristas in the business. The snow is gently falling and it doesn’t look to be sticking.
But then there’s Saturday. I’m headed down to Wichita to hang out with Dad and see a friend of mine (and business partner) who lives down there. That’s all goodness, but there’s also a 70% chance of snow up here in Kansas City that morning (on the way out) and an 80% chance of snow in Wichita at night (for the drive back). So rather than enjoying a nice, leisurely drive with the windows down I’m going to have my heater (complete with the noisy blower motor I really need to replace) going full-blast while I grip the steering wheel with white knuckles and try to avoid the stupid drivers who will – inevitably – be out cruising the snow-covered highways at speeds that would surely be enough propel them into space if they were vertical.
That’s OK – the kids will be pelting each other with snowballs or sledding down the modest hill out front so I can’t complain too much.
But I will anyway. I HATE SNOW.
(post image courtesy of Isaac Alongi)by