Ahh! The first decent snowstorm of the year.

It is no secret that I love winter, love cold, love snow, and love moving it around.

So when I wake up to several inches of the white stuff this morning, I can’t wait to get my boots on and go out there and start up the snow thrower and dig in.

“Shouldn’t you wear something besides just your boots?” says Marsha.

That didn’t really happen.  I’m not that goofy that I’d go outside naked except for boots. 

Now, I often DO go outside to shovel without a coat, hat or gloves, just wearing my jeans and a tee shirt.  But, that’s only on days when it’s sunny and when there is no wind. 

Today is great, though.  All up and down the street other people are out doing the same thing.  I’ve heard that not everyone tackles the job quite as happily as I do, but it always seems a cheerful neighborhood scene, nonetheless.

Once I finish and come back inside, the best part is that it is still snowing hard, so I’ll get to go out and do it again later.  What fun!

“Dear Mom:  Did you drop me on my head when I was a baby?  All of my neighbors and friends want to know.  Your son, Jim.”

My old friend Wes Boyd hates the winter.  The thing is that Wes has perfected the grumble.  Remember that old comic strip, “Our Boarding House?”  Without question, the greatest character in the strip was Major Amos B. Hoople, who was a grump.  Wes is not a grump, but when it comes to winter weather, he has perfected the “Major Amos B. Hoople grumpy grumble.”   “Harummphhh!” 

It is the most articulate grumpy grumble imaginable, and it is not just auditory.  It is the total package, complete with body language, tone of voice, something in the eyes—everything.  I can just see and hear Wes right now, contemplating winter and cold and snow:  “Harummphhhh!” 

It is a world-class grumble, and it is one of the many things I love about winter. 

People who hate winter think that everyone else hates it too, and when they meet someone who loves winter, they just can’t quite believe we are serious, and they also believe that the person before them is the ONLY person in the world who feels does love winter.

Not so.  There are a lot of us.  If you don’t believe me, just drive north on I-75 some cold, winter weekend and see all of the people headed north with skis, snowmobiles, sled dogs, sleds, ice-fishing gear and other winter toys.

For years, my work took me south to visit people who ran away from winter.  The first thing they’d say when I’d see them was, “I’ll bet you’re glad to be down here and out of that horrible winter weather!”  Big cheesy grin.

I couldn’t say it out loud, but what my heart was saying was, “No. I want to be back in Michigan where the weather is decent, and NOT down here where just walking across the street makes me sweat and where bugs bite me in January.  Harummmphhhh!”

                                         © by Jim Whitehouse

                                                    Index