Winter Pearls

If you know anything at all about StoryPeople, you know some of us brace ourselves at the mere mention of winter and by the time it strikes, we've become certain we're the target of a terrible conspiracy.

Good for you if bitter winter is refreshing and invigorating and the absence of daylight makes you merry. I couldn't tell if they were being cheerful or snippy because the cold does that, but one of your sort once said, 'If you don't like cold, you should leave.' And I thought it was a fabulous idea so I said good-bye. It really does all work out, doesn't it?

Winter doesn't seem to have a problem with me, she said, so I think it's right that I should be the one to leave. I think it'll make it easier on everyone.
- Original Drawing #1656 by Brian Andreas

We went back to California and now we live in what feels like perpetual spring. We have plenty of weather adventures, courtesy of Nature, but not much of that breath-taking cold stuff, so any winter we experience is entirely our choice. Wheeeee.

It makes a big difference.

Brian twittered the other day about sub-zero temperatures in Switzerland, but by the next day, he was given 36 bonus derees and was able to purr at the charming postcard scene (not so different than Decorah on a silent, snowy, golden-glowy night). Deeeeelicious!

We ourselves just returned from Spain, where we spent a wondrous Christmas, and there was plenty of serious cold and relentless rain, but not one eye was batted in complaint.

I began to recall other places I've gone quite deliberately when there was nothing but winter weather on offer (skiing doesn't count): Zurich, Paris, Manhattan, Venice, Prague, Budapest.

They were cold and sometimes, not even decked in fluffy snow, but steeped in clammy fog - that most melancholy of conditions. But I don't remember any misery when I think of them. Instead, because I chose to go, because I chose the story, they come back to me - luminous and truly lovely memories.

... my landlady in Budapest proudly sending me off to a film festival in Siberian temperatures wearing her prized silver fox ensemble. For a week, I lived in Dr. Zhivago.

and ... standing in the center of the Piazza San Marco, under drizzle and in piles of mist, feet in half an inch of winter water, talking with an old friend about nothing at all. You know. Philosophy.

Sigh.

Well, enough with all the sentiment.

Winter's awful, but it has a fathomless store of stories and that's good - that's really good - for those of us who like it just enough to visit.