“I hate winter” is a statement uttered by folks around mid-western America. People, quit your bitching about the season. The trees, shrubbery, and surroundings get blanketed by white puffs of frozen, crystallized water. It’s beautiful outside and glistening snowfalls are amazing.
Children become excited about going sledding or building snowmen, and snow angels can be seen in many a back yard. What about blazing new trails by trudging over a fresh fall? Don’t you love-making snow forts stocked with piles of snow balls used for targeting passing cars and newspaper deliverers. I hate winter? Non-sense! All the activities mentioned above are snowy, wintry delights.
Like all seasons, winter can introduce burdens that we encounter. I get your misery. I too, have my issues with the fluffy white stuff, but I calmly deal with each dilemma as they arise. There is no “I hate winter” in my vocabulary.
For example, the other day I stumbled upon fresh footprints in the snow which lead to a painful discovery; whom was the last person to leave the outhouse, using up the final magazine page for cleanup?
The footprints looked like mine, but they were different. The stride was close together with an additional third round mark (like a pole would make) next to every other step.
“Grandmaaaaaa? Stop wearing my boots! And replace the dang magazines in the outhouse. It ain’t no fun “swabbin’-the-deck” with icicles!”
Do you think ice on everything outside is a reason people say “I hate winter?” I suppose winter ice can be a hassle for people. However, a funny sight is witnessing people when they wipe out on a slippery patch. Please, don’t get me wrong. I don’t enjoy seeing people injured via a fall. It’s the slip-n-slide (non-injury) types that have me giggling for days.
Have you seen this? A guy is walking and he suddenly loses his footing on the ice. His arms flap like uncontrollable tentacles without direction and his legs make a contorted, spastic effort to regain the balance he had only a moment earlier. The more he erratically distorts his body, violently making balance corrections in an attempt to escape the inevitable, the worse off he is at staying on his feet. The end is near and down he goes. I cannot help to laugh heartily at this sight.
Of course, it’s not so funny when it happens to you…minding your own business…munching on a turkey leg with snot coagulating in the great valley between your snout and upper lip…when the ice takes your feet from beneath you, dumping your shivering butt on to the frozen parking lot. Gathering yourself off the ground, what’s missing?
“My bird appendage!”
Seconds later, you’re digging rescue tunnels with frost-bitten fingers, clawing in the snow plowed pile in search of your half-eaten turkey leg.
You’re like, “OMG, where is it?”
Witnesses: a pretty mother clutching on to her children, frantically escorting her kids into her vehicle.
“I hate winter. MUST.GET. AWAY. FROM. THIS. GUY!”