Decades ago, I enjoyed winter mountaineering. Solitude and beauty combined with skiing/back-country adrenaline, made for a thrilling adventure and a sense of achievement. It was worth digging those snow caves.
Then I got married and took my young Jamaican bride cross country skiing on Casper Mountain. Eventually, my children shushed there as well.
Mountains and all that snow were just minutes from my house. We took it for granted.
Thinking of winter, I remember another side that I don’t dream about. Like the time when my son’s car:
- 100 feet from home
- on bare asphalt
- was completely buried in drifting snow
- in less than 30 minutes
Yes, buried above the roof, in a snow drift 100 feet long, 30 feet wide, and 6 feet deep. That, despite two guys shoveling and using a commercial snow blower.
That blizzard, with its 90+ mph winds, just laughed at us. Don’t think I could take those blizzards now.
Today, in Florida, it’s 62 degrees inside and 50 degrees outside. It’s so far, in so many ways, from Wyoming. Yet, I’m feeling chilly here. So it’s time for:
- long pants instead of shorts
- shoes and socks instead of sandals
- warm the house up to 68 degrees with the heat pump
This happens 2 to 3 times a year during a South Florida winter. It’s a great time to test a heat pump that I don’t need. And search for some socks I haven’t seen for a long while.
Burrr. I think this transplant is adapting. Check back again this May when it’s 98 degrees and 96 percent in the Florida shade. I might have changed my mind. 🙂