Rebekah L. Cowell
If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a dozen times, “It just doesn’t feel like Christmas,†with a segue into the favorite topic, our un-seasonably warm weather. True, it doesn’t feel like December, even for the South. But for me, this is the best Christmas present the weather gods could bestow upon us, other than, say, a couple inches of rain. If you gods/goddesses are listening, send us some rain, please!
I say this is a gift, not because I’m perverse but because I finally know what cold weather is about, and listen up ya’ll — we’ve got it good.
Due to work and family events, I’ve been up and down the Eastern seaboard since March — living in Maine part of the year and coming back home for the winter, hallelujah.
I’ve learned a lot in this past year of “Northern Exposureâ€:
- Wool is your absolute best friend.
- Spring is actually “mud-season.†Don’t expect flowers until June.
- Yankees aren’t rude, they’re just cold.
Well, these are just a few of the things I’ve learned, but let me elaborate on #3. Picture this: It’s eight degrees as the high; you’ve had six inches of snow fall during the night, more coming during the day; you have to shovel out your drive just to leave the house; to keep from losing a couple of digits you’ve got to put on more layers than a Southerner has on a clean-wash day; by the time you get your car out of the drive, you’ve got to watch out for black ice; crawling along, you get to the grocery store, you unwind out of a few layers to shop in comfort, you fill your cart, you see neighbors, you nod and smile, but you don’t much feel like chewing the fat when you’ve got to get home before the blizzard begins and the roads turn to a skating rink; you check-out, bundle back-up, load your car while the sub-degrees sting your exposed skin (like cheeks and nose); miserable, you crank up the heat, crawl back home, run back and forth to the house with your grocery bags, almost break an ankle on the sidewalk you cleared that’s frozen over again, and hunker down while the next snowstorm obliterates your shoveled drive. And, god forbid you have a child in tow — it’s enough to make me cry! Ok, so perhaps this is not an everyday occurrence, or the whole state of Maine would shut down. But for a Southern girl, Northern Survival 101 involved a couple of days just as I’ve described. No wonder Yankees don’t have time to wave or chat.
So, listen up, yes, this weather is a gift! Don’t complain about it to me. I’m just going to advise you spend a week in Maine, Oklahoma, Iowa or Alaska!
Because of our mild December, we’ve had sunny days, perfect hikes and walks, (sure beats going to the gym and using a treadmill), picnics and days at the park. And one more thing: Climate does affect attitude. Here in our Triangle paradise, there is no rush to avoid the black ice, the below-zero temps, the incoming blizzard – we can chat and talk with friends and neighbors, we can sit out on the lawn of Weaver Street and have brunch in the sun. We’re lucky, that’s what I say. Believe me “White Christmases†are way overrated!
Rebekah Cowell is a mother and writer, and a graduate of UNC who resides in North Chatham.