Good Sunday morning! Another snowstorm is in full swing. Outside the drifts are growing. We have had such cold temperatures this past week that there was not much melting at all, so the snow banks along the driveway are pretty big.
One good thing is that the temperature has climbed to about 28F this morning, and it feels almost warm by comparison to yesterday and Friday.
I am a beach bum by nature. I love summer weather, and there is nothing more appealing to me than lying on warm sand for hours, listening to the herring gulls cry and the waves slap the shore. So why do I still live here where the outside world that I so love to be in is frozen for so much of the year? Because I know of no other place where you can experience so many kinds of weather, culture and so much diverse beauty as in New England.
Here, after a relatively short drive I can experience the lights of Boston or Providence or New York city. I can ride the ferry to Block Island or the Vineyard. I can be in Kennebunkport, Maine in Dock Square or strolling on the cliff walk in Newport, Rhode Island in less than 2 hours time. I can savor lunch in the North End and dinner in Chinatown if I mosey over to Boston. In my limited traveling, I’ve often thought that I might like to stay at a sunny locale permanently, but I know I would miss this magical corner of Earth where I was born, not to mention my loved ones, most of whom are all around me here.
So now, the flakes are sifting down cloaking the spruce trees in the yard with a pristine, white mantel. The juncos are scrapping with the titmice inside the labyrinths of the forsythia hedge and I am warm and dry. Maybe winter in new England isn’t so bad after all.