abigail414's diaryland diary
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Snowless in Southern California
Growing up in southern California, my experience with snow was the voluntary kind - you would visit it for skiing and then go back home. Big storms in other parts of the country would bring up visions of snuggling in front of a fire drinking cocoa, while gazing upon a beautiful snowscape. Then I could see the snowbound residents going outside to make a snowman or strap on skis for a trek around the block.
After living in Michigan for 20 years, I know better. The above idyllic description happens on occasion, but usually it is more like the photo. Mandatory snow, the kind you live with, means expending a lot of extra effort to do simple things like find your car, drive it safely, walk your dogs, and arrive on time anywhere. Plus there are power outages that cut the water supply, iced up windows and car locks, and the constant wearing of fleece for half the year. Yes, this makes you tough and resilient (adding character and depth), but also fat (from staying indoors and bundled up while eating out of sheer boredom).
My first years in Michigan were spent in awe at how much effort went into moving snow around. To me, snow looked like nature�s way of saying �just don�t live here�, and the piles on the side of the road and parking lots were our way of answering back 'oh yeah?'. (My answer was to ride the bus to work after my rear wheel drive turbo-charged car ended up on the median).
In Michigan, when you hear of a snowstorm anywhere you get gas and go to the store and do what needs to be done in case you can't do it tomorrow. (see http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20060217/ap_on_re_us/winter_storms - it is a cultural phenom). Even though I am now in the land of sun and 85 degree breezes, a reports of a storm coming still brings up the 'oh no here comes more snow' reflex. Which is especially funny while lying in a hammock looking at palm trees and mountains and blue sky. Old habits die hard.
Also odd is my feeling about it being February. February may technically be the shortest month, but in the midwest it felt like the longest one. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years are done, the bills are in, and there is an interminable gray cold damp march towards spring. Here in Palm Springs the seasons are recersed - I'm hoping that February will stretch out as long as possible, because come June the real heat starts (up to 120 degrees). When I first moved to Michigan from California, people asked I'd experienced winter there, with a knowing smile like they had passed an initiation. Now people ask if I've been here in the summer, with that same smile. Considering we could have a life shattering earthquake any day, I think I'll just enjoy my hammock time while I can.
9:28 p.m. - 2006-02-13
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