Whoa . . . Forever!!

Wow, I know it’s been a long time since I blogged. I feel like I should apologize, but at the same time, I’ve been so ill lately I went on holiday. My body was thankful for the respite and it rejuvenated my soul.

Some of you may be wondering where I spent my holiday . . . actually, I stayed home. Of course you’re now wondering how I could have found such relaxation and peace in Chicago! I admit the snow accumulation has been unprecedented. In fact, I can’t remember the last time we had this much snow. But unlike the average Chicago-en, I love the frost and freeze.

In truth, I love experiencing all four seasons. They’re like beautiful changes of scenery all in the same place! By the time Summer is getting old, Autumn (my favorite season) takes over, but even Autumn can wear out its welcome. Winter, sub-zero though it may be, is a much needed change at the end of a brown November. What about Spring? Though I’m not one of those people who associate Winter with death, Spring definitely brings new life.

 Well, that’s enough rambling for now, but I can’t say how consistent a resident I’m going to be here on WordPress. I realized I was using this blog as an excuse not to work on my book! Wow, we writers will sometimes do anything to get out of writing.

So Long Friends,

Kevin

First Snow

Last night a silent army of snow parachuted into my front yard. By 2:00 am their platoons had covered the southern front. By 7:00am my car was ambushed. My apartment was surrounded. I smiled.

I love the snow. I hope this band of frozen infantry brings billions more troops my way. I’d gladly desert the armies of summer to frolic with Jack Frost and his soldiers. Christmas should be white. Winter is for snowmen, sledding, and snowballs.

I’ve mentioned before that I spent a transient span of my life in the Carolinas. While there, living as a nomad, I was consistently amazed at there attitude toward snow and ice. Their mentality is “if you can’t beat them . . . hide.” Within moments of a snow-advisory every Wal-Mart is stripped of its bread and water. Gas seemingly evaporates. Canned food joins the ranks of the White Eagle as an endangered species.

Next thing you know the storm hits. But we’re not talking about a “Rudolf get your nose fired up” kind of snow, I mean a light flurry of snowy dust drifting over the abandoned street. Where are the Southeners? In their homes surrounded by eggs, toilet paper, and candles . . . just in case. And since they don’t own snow plows, most poor souls wait indoors until the “white” disapears. Only the truly adventerous risk the harsh conditions of the southern winter. Unfortunately, about 75% of those who take to the roads end up in a ditch somewhere. Only the most successful manage to get back home, where they quickly pour sand all over their porch to keep from slipping.

But here in Chicago, by 7 pm last night the trucks were out casting their salt like seeds in spring. By midnight the roads were clear and the backup units kept them that way throughout the evening. By morning the landscape looked like a white checkerboard criss-crossed by asphalt lines. The commute ran as smoothly as usual, and a casual perusal of school closings told you that they hadn’t.

I love snow. I might sound crazy, but I think it has something to do with my inability to grow up. That’s why I live in the North. I love Chicago!