Fair warning, this post won't be nearly as interesting to the Iowa folks as it will be for my family down south -- the same family that queries me each winter with, "So, why do you live there?"We woke up this morning to another blanket of the fluffy and cold white stuff. Even Yo-Yo, who typically loves his morning frolics through the snow, seemed to be looking at me with dismay.
The National Weather Service guy from the Quad Cities said that we've received 15 inches of snow in the past five days. That isn't as bothersome as it sounds since we've been getting hit and then clearing off. When the snow stops falling and the winds stop blowing, the road crews can get out with the plows and clear streets. Well, they can do that so long as people make a point of removing their cars from the streets that need to be plowed. (There's a lot to be said about "Iowa nice," but in the winter emotions can run close to the surface.)
I must admit that there are several times throughout the winter that I open the door and just shake my head in wonderment. Why do I continue to live here? Sleds, ice skates and snow shoes aren't included in my idea of a good time. Although snow mobiles look fun, it's still too cold for me. When it comes to skiing, I'd much rather have my sun-heated body fall into a cool pool of lake water than my already cold form crashing into a snow bank.
The worst days are the ones when beautiful sunlight streams through the windows while I work. On those days my body aches to go outside and bathe in the beams. Unfortunately, when winter rages, one doesn't expose much skin to sunlight. My body has to be content with pulling the rays through my upper face or, on days when I'm crazy stupid, my exposed hands. The lack of vitamin D is likely the largest single contributor to Iowans' winter testiness.
In the winter, however, no one in the family will complain about food. I can bake and cook from morning to night and it only serves to calm the entire family. Even something as simple as the smell of brewing coffee has a quality to it in the winter, a feeling of secure and warm home.
The best part of winter, at least in my estimation, is when it begins to go away. The large, ugly piles of snow and sand in parking lots begin to diminish. The trees begin to bud, and small leaves are soon visible. Tulips appear overnight beside houses, and everyone seems to come back to life amid the sweet smell of peonies. It's magical.
I've watched for nearly 15 years now as Iowa has transformed from barren and frozen to a lush paradise. The renewal is nothing short of amazing and inspiring. And, that renewal -- that confirmation of life -- is as much a part of Iowans as it is the land around us. It continues to be why I'm willing to wear three pair of sock and shuffle through snow banks. It's why I'm willing to get up an hour earlier in the winter just because I know I need to clear snow off the car. In Iowa, there is always something better just around the corner -- even on the days when the snow is piled so high that you can't see the corner.
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