Thoughts on winter in New England

A lot of people hate winter, especially after so many days and nights of snow and cold temperatures.  People complain bitterly about it and pray for spring to get here faster.

I am not one of them.  I like winter, and I believe in addition to the bad it has much good.  Just like any other season.  But here in New England it is a very distinct season, and not watered down at all.  You get beautiful winter scenes like no other.

That’s one of the things I love most about New England: it has seasons.  Four very different, very distinct seasons.

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Cambridge in the snow

You may have heard that we’ve gotten some snow this winter. You may have heard that it’s been a little, um, chilly this winter. You’d be right on both counts.

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More medieval cooking on a snowy winter’s eve

This week has become one snow event after another, and we are starting to actually run out of places to put the snow when we shovel.  There are really only two piles: the big one on the other side of our trash and recycling bins, between them and the neighbor’s fence; and the small one in this little corner between the steps and the house, where there is a stump I want dead anyway.  So the little pile is getting close to its maximum practical size, and the other one has reached the height of the bushes.  And trying to chip away all the melted, compacted snow that had refrozen as ice all over the walk and steps took almost an hour of hard work.  Thirty degrees outside and I was sweating.

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