16 years ago this week, we moved from sunny SoCal to Cincinnati, Ohio. And the view from our windows (above) was exactly the same as it is now. Because it turns out:
They have winter here this time every year!
As my old friend Allen put it, there are two seasons in southern California: Summer and Not Summer. I used to winterize our apartment by closing the windows. My cold weather wardrobe consisted of: socks.
Right before we moved, a new acquaintance in Cincinnati asked me if I’d ever seen snow. I laughed. “Of course! We go to the snow every year,” by which I meant we’d get in the car and drive up to the local mountains for the day. He laughed and said, “Ah, well, here we don’t go to the snow. It comes to us.”
“How convenient,” I thought.
And it doesn’t even need an Uber.
Honestly? I love snow. I enjoy having four full seasons. Although each season has its downside (there’s a metaphor in there somewhere, but I’m too lazy to explore it): Spring has weeds, plus grass, grass and more grass. Summer has still more weeds–and sweat. Fall has endless raking. And Winter has driveway-shoveling and cars stuck in ditches.
Fortunately, our winter has been mild this year (so far). Mostly just pretty layers of vanilla frosting on everything. And so, inspired by the view from my office window, I’ll close with this ode (eat your heart out, Robert Frost):
Winter found a bit of snow
still left in his bag, so he let it blow.
And here it is—quite nice, you know?
Not deep, just right, no cars to tow,
and soon enough the grass will grow.
But I can wait.
I hate to mow.