A NOTE FROM THE BLOG: So when I wrote this post back in November, I guess I just assumed that early January would be snowy and cold and miserable in Cleveland. And while it is kind of cold this week, the snow has been almost non-existent. It has been the mildest of mild winters thus far, which makes this post seem a little...irrelevant. So please do me a favor if you're someone who lives in my area: As you read this, pretend you're looking outside and there's a big blizzard. It will enhance the experience for you and make me feel better about everything at the same time. Thanks so much.
T.S. Eliot said April is the cruelest month, but my vote is for January.
At least here in Northeast Ohio, January is just a brutal, seemingly endless month. It starts on a high note with the new year, but then it drags on and on with snow, cold and the realization that spring – REAL spring, with warmer temperatures and everything – is still weeks and even months away.
Some of the worst snowstorms we get here on America's North Coast happen in January, usually about the third week or so. Not sure why, but that seems to be the peak of winter for us. And even after we pass it, it's not like we can look forward to a rapid change in our weather.
Because then comes February. Which may be even crueler than January. More cold. More gray. More snow. And even though it's a shorter month, this year we get an extra February day to endure. Thanks, calendar!
I shouldn't complain, of course. I choose to live where I live and I love it here. Nothing beats the Midwest in summer, as far as I'm concerned, and it really is worth enduring the rest of it to enjoy that May-September stretch.
But man, getting there is tough. Or at least it seems to be tougher as I get a little older. Is this why people up here all eventually flee to Florida, at least for the winter months? I used to think that was hilarious. Now I think, "Hmmm, Florida..."
Seriously, Terry and I have talked about moving south one day. Maybe not to Florida, but the Carolinas do seem nice. But that would still be years away, certainly after Jack graduates (and he's only in fifth grade right now).
And it would be a huge adjustment for two people who have lived in the same zip code their entire lives.
But with every morning where I have to shovel the driveway, and every time I have to pull on boots, a jacket, gloves and a hat, it seems more and more appealing.
Man, I'm freezing. Only, what, 64 days until spring? I can't wait.
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