Enjoying the Snow
Snow is now. Make the most of it.
Welcome to another edition of Willoughby Hills!
This newsletter explores topics like history, culture, work, urbanism, transportation, travel, agriculture, self-sufficiency, and more.
The snow has stopped falling. It started Sunday morning around 9am and was still coming down when I went to bed around 9pm last night. In total, we received just under two feet of snow (0.6 meters) and the temperatures throughout the weekend and into today have hovered in the single digits.
But I’m not complaining. In fact, I’m reveling in all of it.
Before I go on, I have to acknowledge that my ability to revel comes from a place of privilege. We didn’t lose power in this storm, we can afford to keep our heat running at a comfortable temperature, and I bought a new battery-operated snowblower this season that was able to handle the deep drifts of snow with relative ease. There are many in my community that are forced to dig out by hand or to ration their heating because running it in cold weather costs too much. I’m lucky.
Today, though, I’m thinking about the people in my position of relative privilege who find reasons to be unhappy right now because of the cold, the snow, or the winter.
About a week before the snowstorm arrived, we had a stretch of relatively warm weather, at least warm for January. Daytime highs were in the mid to high forties (around 7ºC) for a few days and it felt more like late March than the middle of winter.
To me, that warm weather was concerning. It felt like a harbinger of our new winter reality. The predictions are that someday in the near future, likely within my lifetime, New England will feel more like North Carolina. I greeted the warm spell with trepidation, unease. I wanted January to feel like January, dammit.
Yet during that stretch of mild weather, I had a similar version of the same conversation with maybe 10 or 12 different people in different contexts. They all expressed a unanimous desire for winter to be over already and for spring to start. This would’ve been roughly January 14, not even a month into the official winter season. Nobody was looking forward to the coming cold or snow, and they seemed unconcerned with the possible global implications of a warm January.
That restlessness with current circumstances seems to be a human attribute. We are always looking forward. Sometimes that’s in a calendar or seasonal context. Others, it comes in the realm of consumption: “Once I get that new gizmo (trade in my car, go on that vacation), my life will be better.”
I’ve been trying to consciously take the opposite approach lately, appreciating the present moment for all that it is.
I wasn’t always this way. I too once treated winter with dread. The days are short, the nights are cold and long. But a few years ago, something shifted in me.
Some of this change happened because we began to shift our diet to one that’s primarily locally and seasonally sourced. There’s some gratitude that comes from finding a delicious sweet potato, celeriac, or daikon radish in the middle of winter. That feeling is multiplied when there are some fresh greenhouse greens for making a small salad when there’s snow on the ground.
The snow also brings with it the anticipation of maple syrup season. This will be my sixth year tapping maple trees to make our own syrup, an activity that is highly seasonal and very weather dependent. It’s a project that often takes place when there’s still snow on the ground and centers around creating a large, roaring fire, which fights back against the cold air.
Partaking more in winter sports also provides some variety in this time. Last year, we began ice skating as a family and in the last few years, we’ve done more sledding and winter hiking.
But perhaps the biggest reason winter now holds more appeal to me than it once did is because I’m dressed for it. I bought a vintage pair of wool hunting pants this year and they have been a godsend! They were made in Vermont by a company that’s been making wool gear since 1842 and is still around. The pair I purchased were probably 30-40 years old and were in tough shape, but came at a bargain price. I had to take them to a local tailor to have seams mended, buttons resown, and the pants laundered, but now they are thick and keep me warm. Ditto to my wool hat and wool gloves.
I don’t begrudge the people that I encountered complaining about the cold or the snow. But I know from experience that many of these are the same people that are equally as disappointed on a 90ºF summer day. It seems like they are never quite satisfied with where they are and are only focused on what’s coming later. Is it possible that they will reach the end of their lives and still be waiting for… something? Better weather, a job promotion, that new outfit, new gadget or the latest iPhone?
Perhaps my feeling of gratitude comes from the fact that I recently finished reading Plestia Alaqad’s book The Eyes of Gaza, which is her first-hand account of living and reporting in Gaza during the 45 days following October 7, 2023 and the months and years beyond, when she was able to live in Australia and Lebanon as a refugee.
I remember watching the destruction of Gaza in real time on social media two years ago, but reading Plestia’s perspective on just how quickly the streets became unrecognizable and the hospitals and refugee camps filled with people is heartbreaking.
At one point, Plestia describes meeting a friend for lunch in Australia in April, 2024 after she and her friend have both escaped Gaza. It’s a standard day for a person in the Global North, maybe even forgettable for us. But for Plestia, that simple lunch is a sign of resistance and resilience. She writes:
“Never take things for granted, and enjoy every detail of your life. Your ‘boring’ day might be someone else’s dream.”
At one time, that preciousness of life was a perspective that only seemed understandable in a war zone, at least for wealthy white Americans. But after watching the ICE takeover of Minneapolis and the killings of people at the hands of the state, it’s clear that our lives in America are no more sacred than anyone else’s.
This life is fragile. Our time on this earth is fragile.
So I implore you to put on some warm clothes and go enjoy the snow and the cold. There’s a good chance that before too long, there won’t be winters like this anyways.
But more importantly, living life looking forward means not really living at all. You’re always waiting for what’s next, not appreciating what’s now.
Enjoy the cold, enjoy the rain, enjoy the heat, enjoy the night. It’s all precious. And your mundane reality may a dream for someone else.
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Sometimes I think people complain about the weather because it is just “what one does”. Does that make sense? We moved to New Hampshire last fall and I, for one, am loving all this snow! It is absolutely from a place of privilege that allows me to stay warm and hire a plow operator! One of the things I am looking forward to this year is having access to local, seasonal produce. All in good time, of course.
Beautiful essay, and an important reminder. Gratitude for the moments we’re in is a skill that sometimes takes patience and more energy than we seem to have. But worthy nonetheless.