The Muddle of Winter...

This has been a muddly sort of week so far. I suppose, in winter, muddle is really the order of the day. You never can tell what's going to happen outside- the weather takes pride on being as unpredictable as possible. A week ago, Mr. Weatherman informed us that we might get 'a few snow showers'. Almost 9 inches later and I just shoveled my driveway for the third time in four days. I think we can safely say Mr. Weatherman is full of it.

I'm still loving the snow. Even though the drive to work is a little hairy and I don't like it when the wheels of my Toyota Corolla start to slide as I navigate to work, it's still amazing to see how different the world looks when a thick coat of white snow masks it. I love shovelling snow. It sounds a little mental to say that but it's true. When I say that at work, people say, "oh, whatever. It's only because you've only had to do it a couple of times. Wait until next year."

I beg to differ. Shovelling snow is therapeutic to me. It's a way of taking a heap of potential problematic mess and digging in to get rid of it. With each plow of my shovel, cleanliness and order reappears. Also, after about ten minutes, I'm sweating and feeling the exertion. In my book, that makes it good exercise. In summation: Shoveling snow is both good for my muscles and for my soul.

As I write this, I'm looking out the window. It's a vast wilderness of white out there. It's a frosty, freezing sort of white. As far as Mr. Weatherman predicted, it's supposed to be cold out there and, with the wind chill, even colder.

I can feel my mother shudder as I write this. As I've mentioned, Mummy Monkeypants is not a winter creature. She's the sort of human who thrives when the sun shines. In spring, she starts to awaken; in summer, she's at her best. It's interesting, really; two winters into my new life in Ohio and I'm still loving every snowflake. I'm still performing the Snow Dance with Sausage until I'm forbidden. Which, by the way, I'll have you know, I was forbidden from performing the dance this week. Also, I was forbidden from wearing my necklace.

Yet, it doesn't matter. Each time it snows, I feel a little more of me awaken. I'm not sure why. Like Mummy Monkeypants, I enjoy the Spring. I enjoy the beginning of Summer. I enjoy the end of Summer when the Autumn leaves start turning and winter whispers on the air. It's just that hot, miserably part of the year that I don't like. I suppose, in short, I like the coolness of the seasons. I like winter because it's unarguably cold. I like spring because it begins cold and ends with the intense warmth of summer days but still has chilly, cool nights. Autumn has the same: Hot days, cool nights. It's just summer I don't really like: Hot days, hot nights...no real distinction as to when the sun sets.

As I write this, I realize there are at least several dozen people I know who would think I am insane for saying I love winter and its snowy gloriousness. Having been on Facebook, I have at least that many friends who have wished for somewhere warm and sunny in the face of the brutal snowstorm we've been facing.

As for me, I revel in the icy flakes. Granted, I don't like having to drive on the stuff. I'd rather be snuggled inside, looking out as the snowflakes cascade to earth, covering the ground over and over so that nothing of normalcy remains, awash in the stark white splendour of the snowy backdrop.

Yet even when I have to be at work, I take pride in the fact that when I look outside, see the snowflakes tumble downwards, I smile. It's winter. It might be icy, it might be mean but it knows how to get our attention by creating a muddle.

And, sometimes, when you learn to accept it, living in a muddle isn't bad. It makes things interesting.

Just keep a snow shovel on hand.

Happy Thursday!