And I do not use the word hate, lightly. Ice, snow, wind chill factors, and all the trouble they bring have been one of the greatest struggles of my life. When I was a child, I lived in the more temperate Southern climate of North Carolina. Winters were cold, but seldom deadly. Now I live in Iowa, where winter hurts my face.
I choose to endure this torment for my family’s sake. They love the abominable weather here. In general, I have adapted to the cold as best as I’m able. But the recent polar air plunging out of the arctic circle has reminded me of the deep seated loathing I have for this time of year. The only consolation I have is that I no longer live in Chicago where I’d be shoveling even more lake effect snow than I do on the frozen plains.
The last week has been more of a struggle for me than I’m used to. My family moved into a new house in October, and this is our first winter in a new environment. We’ve had to adjust to a new furnace, winterizing our doggy door, and compensating for a larger, draftier house built over a hundred years ago. I have never dreaded an ice storm more than I do living here.
But it hasn’t stopped me from writing!
Honestly, I have no other reason for writing this rant than to lament my terrible distaste for all things wintry. Christmas and New Years are over, the food and celebrations are done, and only bitter cold and long nights await me until spring. Of course I can endure until then, but I don’t look forward to the frigid days and darkest nights until the spring thaw arrives.
In the mean time, I am working on my new novel, The Winnowing. I’m also writing a new script for my application to this year’s Veterans Writing Project through the Writers Guild Foundation. I also keep up with my weekly writer’s group critiques and submitting my monthly words in turn (though I’ve been struggling lately). Even though winter continues to vex me, I keep working on the projects that I need to finish, one page at a time.