Being a Southern girl, and living in a city that is notorious about handling winter weather poorly, I’ll admit to having a very skewed perception of winter. Here in Louisville (for those of you reading from elsewhere), as soon as there is a threat of inclement weather, the brine trucks hit the road, grocery stores sell out of staples such as bread and milk (I still haven’t figured that one out), and schools are pro-actively cancelled before the first flake falls.
Sure, we’ve had the occasional several inches stick around for a few days. Last year, for instance, the Polar Vortex dropped 5 inches or so of the white stuff that lingered for over a week. The soft, bright blanket that covered the ground just before Thanksgiving was beautiful- light and fluffy. It turned my new neighborhood into a wonderland, but disappeared the next day.
** home, in November **
I remember the first Thanksgiving I dated the man. Cleveland was absolutely covered, and I had packed nothing footwear-wise except my tennis shoes and stilettos. I can now attest to how difficult it is to find snow boots in November in a city that’s grown to expect a blizzard every winter.
Alas, winters here at home toggle between bitterly cold and dry, or moderately, wear-your-coat-open chilly (like now). Save for a few anomalies, like the Polar Vortex and that crazy ice storm that hit 8 or so years ago, Winter is just a time to turn the heat on at home.
This year, we’ve decided to venture to Chicago while they have a massive amount of snow on the ground, so I can finally have a real winter weather experience.
Sunday is supposed to bring even more snowfall, and I have a fantastical idea of what it will feel and look like to walk along the river, bound in fur and my heavy wool coat, fleece-lined cold-gear tights under my skirt, while flakes fall all around me.
** Millenium Park, currently, via Chicago.jpg **
** the river, currently, via diharrell **
** The Water Tower **
As often as the guy and I have discussed retiring in my beloved Windy City, and as much as I pout (and sometimes cry) when I’m on the way home, I’m sure I need to experience some real winter weather. I need to walk to get groceries in the snow, and drive on I-90 in inclement weather. I need to figure out if this fantastical idea of a winter wonderland is accurate, or if I’ll just become angry at the biting cold blowing on my face on Lake Shore, or to see how Chicagoians attitudes may shift during the more bitter tempered months.
Sweet friends, I’ll be reporting my findings come Monday, and will be posting up a storm (I’m sure) via my Instagram. Until next week…
