Home from Florida dodging ice storms and snow storms. When I left the Keys, it was in the 80s. Flowers were blooming, pelicans were diving, boats were bobbing with their masts decorated with Christmas lights. The temperatures dropped as we passed from state to state. The first morning I woke up in Indiana, the thermometer read minus 1 degree. Now the snowflakes are falling, falling.
I always enjoyed winter until I took a job that required a lot of traveling, then I watched the weather anxiously to see if I would have to navigate treacherously icy roads to Rochester. This part of Indiana is as fickle as a Kardashian. Kokomo-bound, from Wabash to Swayzee, can be bright and clear but cross the invisible weather line and you’re driving into a blizzard. Some highways are more prone to blowing and drifting than others. Even after the snow is long over, giant snowblowers appear to be trying to push all the snow from the fields onto Ind. 15 and Ind. 13.
It is always surprising to discover the difference among counties and cities when it comes to snow removal. Some, like my own, are Johnny on the Spot. I hear the scrape and clunk of the plows going past the house in the middle of the night.
Other places appear to have a much more nonchalant attitude. They tend to trust to God, weather and traffic to do the job — eventually. Even their main drags are tamped down sheets of ice. When I worked in the mayor’s office, our spoiled citizens complained mightily if they thought their little two-house dead-end street didn’t get cleared quickly enough. Do other areas have their residents trained to be more accepting?
In 2011, I retired and I began to like winter again because I didn’t have to go anywhere. I could look out the window to see the snow swirling around the street lights, covering the earth with a blanket of white. If the Weatherbug on the computer said it was zero outside, it didn’t matter. Even if I did have to go out in it to run to the store, the house was cozy and welcoming when I got back.