Perhaps it's a sign of laziness, or something else, but when I sat down after slipping, sliding and enduring the stinging laughter of the snow on my way back from the gym I decided to blog about the strange - but not all together unexpected - weather my part of Wisconsin has been enduring for the past day and a half. Why would that be lazy you say? Because I feel like writing about the weather is cliche. Of course, I think pegging summer as my favorite season is cliche too, but that's a whole other story.
Why do I feel like writing about the weather is cliche you ask? Because it just seems like it's the lowest book on the shelf, or the first link that pops up in Google when you're searching for sources for a paper with an encroaching deadline. And by the way, books are the way to go for sources, believe me!
But despite that, here I sit, writing about...the weather. And as you can see from the photograph I've posted of my lovely rainboots, Green Bay, Wisconsin has none other than...snow! In the last weeks of March! And don't let the photograph fool you either, it wasn't just a dusting. It was a full-on blizzard, and even sent forth a thunderstorm last night. Which of course if you've known me and my blog posts long enough you'll know I enjoyed that little bit, nothing like some bright lightning and hearty, rumbling thunder to fall asleep to! Of course my joy ended when I peeked behind the curtain after I go up this morning and discovered everything was layered in an already burdening coat of white, and it hasn't stopped snowing since. Both of my classes were cancelled today, but I braved the ice and slapping snow to workout at the gym on campus. I needed to vent all of my frustration against Mr. Winter on the elliptical machine!
But, even as I conjure up hate-mail and angry haiku's to Mr. Winter another part of me - that annoying sensible side that's always there, laughing at the spontaneous side, knowing it will always conquer - knows its futile to be mad at the weather. After all, it is Wisconsin, so shouldn't I - on some level - have expected this? The answer, of course, is yes. But let me tell you something. Twice now the snow has melted on campus here, and also in my hometown of Sheboygan, only to be replenished. And like I've already said about today, that replenishing wasn't just a sprinkling of confectioner's sugar over a buttery, fluffy pastry. No, not in Wisconsin. This was like accidentally ripping open an industrial-sized sack of flour and having it raining down on you in smooth and biting textures. Something you can't just brush off, or melt away with a string of 50+ degree days. It's staying there for a while, and all you can do is unearth your winter clothes from the back of your closet and mumble under your breath.
Even with all of that reasoning, I still find myself pinning for the days when I can walk to class without wearing/carrying my bulky winter jacket, wear a long-sleeved sweater/hoodie or anything else with long-sleeves for the matter, and can ditch my winter boots for flats. In short, I'm yearning for 60 degree weather! Which is another thing Wisconsin loves to do. While it's dangling the tantalizing sweet and fragrant bud of spring above our heads, it will sometimes lower it down so we can cup it in our hands and burst from our houses in t-shirts and flats, dancing in the puddles of melting snow, reading outside all day underneath a gentle halo of sun while flattened and brown grass gasps at the warm air rushing over it, thankful to see daylight again. Then the steel door swings shut, that blissful warm air is twisted away until cold seeps out of it, and the cloak of winter falls again, smothering the grass, driving us back indoors, and laughing heartily with whipping winds and singing snowstorms as our closets fill to the bursting point with bulky winter clothes we had stashed away.
Okay, I fear I'm being cynical here, but really, I'm tired of winter. Now I know you're thinking, oh really? It wasn't obvious at all until now. And I know, I hide it well don't I? Since I love to contradict myself, and perhaps even start arguments with myself in my head - and both have happened, albeit you're probably not surprised by that - I know I wouldn't want to live somewhere where they never got snow or rain, like say perhaps where one of my friends lives, in Bakersfield, California. It neither snows nor rains there, and while I sit here now, occasionally glancing out at the pulsing, layered white world beyond my window, I think...how boring that would be. I would rather have snow, rain and fluctuations in the weather - unlike say, Los Angeles - then not have any at all. For how much I despise the wildly changing weather patterns of Wisconsin, I know that if I ever fulfill my dream of moving to Oklahoma - yes, I said Oklahoma, and why? Honestly, I've been obsessed with it since middle school. Just when you thought I couldn't get any weirder, right? - or to New England, I know that I would miss the haphazard weather patterns. Albeit, New England gets its fair share of snow as well, so maybe I wouldn't be escaping it after all. But at any rate, as long as I plant myself somewhere that gets sufficient thunderstorms I'm fine. I've been deprived all my life, it's my right to be treated to them the proper months out of the year!
Well, after all that I guess I can't honestly say I never have nothing to blog about. After all, if a novella of mine can start from just a single scene sketched hastily in my mind, or a lone character, a fictional or barely remembered house I glimpsed while gliding down a rural country highway...then I can start a blog post from just idly staring out my window, and yearning for the days when I can trade my winter boots for flats, and my winter jacket for elbow-length hoodies and (gasp!) tank tops. Dare I say those two words? I think I will, and maybe scream them to the blizzard still waltzing and sprinkling its pounds and pounds of flour onto the campus.
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