Current mood:	chipper
Current music:	Winter - Tori Amos

An Ode to a Massachusetts Winter
Even the fact that my algae presentation was waaaaay too short cannot dampen my spirits on this fine Tuesday. For it is snowing and all is right with the world. I'm glad I saved this entry, because I vaguely remember wanting to write something similar to it last year, around this time. I know you're all very pleased I saved you from needless repetition, you all get enough of it in your daily diets. Despite the enormous pressure I was under this weekend to finish innumberable projects and essays, and despite the fact that there was no room yesterday in the parking garage and had to move it to the stables, despite the fact that I hardly have any time to myself anymore and despite the fact that the only people who ever talk to me online anymore (with any sort of regularity) have a habit of IMing me anywhere between 3 and 5 in the morning, I am dreadfully cheerful today.

I think Barbara (from my Algae and Fungi class) wanted to hurt me when I came in so happy today. Because she's an ADA living off campus, she gets to class super early. Today, I left my room about a half an hour early so that, prior to my presentation on Algae, I could spend a sufficient amount of time frolicking in the snow. This has been done. The science quad now features 3 impromptu snow angels, one of which is surrounded by a foot print heart. I have plans for after Oceanography to do a "Charlie's Angels" series. They'll be the most dangerous-looking snow angels around.

I am always surprised by the relatively small number of people on this campus who have snowpants and good snowgear. For the love of God, you live in Massachusetts in the winter! Why wouldn't you have snowpants?! The most frequent answer to this question (oddly enough) has been "I live somewhere it doesn't snow." To which I feel inclined to reply, "You live HERE when it snows, and isn't that the important part?"

I feel sorry for international students from Australia. When we go home for summer break, it's snowing there too. They never get away from the cold weather. That must suck. Unless they really like snow.

What I love about MA in the winter is that everything is so busy looking normally, but when the snow comes, everything is wiped clean. You look out your window at 6am, and not a soul is around. The best is late December, early January, when you wake up in the morning and you think it's still night-time. You go outside and the snow is on the ground and the stars are twinkling ferociously (if it is at all possible to twinkle ferociously, that's what the stars here do in December), passionate little specks of light which the snow throws back at you. When there is snow on the ground and the stars are out, you can see clearly as if it were day, but the dark is upon you and the trees are waiting inspiration. When you pass by, their bark is cold and rough, like they're baring their souls to you. Walking in the fresh fallen snow on the dark mornings, and then coming in and knowing there's a fire burning in the fireplace. You'll never feel such intense joy, comfort or safety.

I love the fields a week after the snow has fallen. There's a thick crust of ice on top and if no one has walked on it since it's fallen, you can take a running start and glide a good 20 feet. I enjoy the uncertainty of walking on sidewalks covered in black ice. Will I fall now? How about now? Now? The feeling of joy you get for just an instant before the terrifying shock of hitting the ground when you do slip on the sidewalk. Admit it, you love being airborn with the same intensity I do. You only learn to be afraid of it when you realize that what goes up, must come down. You know it'll hurt, but there's a little thrill in your heart before you correct yourself and think, "My Goodness, I could have broken something!" You don't really care. For 2 miliseconds, you loved it.

I'm pleased how all the fire hydrants on the campus have a red pole and little red flag attached so they can be found in a four foot snowbank. I love the sound of the snowplows at 4am; the sound of people, trying valiantly to go to work -- why?! I don't know. They really want to get things done. Snow isn't meant for getting things done. That's why animals hibernate or migrate. They know a lot better than we do. Once, last year, they didn't get around to plowing until 10am! People walked on the streets and looked confused. There were no cars. Or if there were, they were covered enough that you couldn't find them, couldn't see them.

I hate shovelling snow. I'm lazy, but also, I want the world to remain in that pristine condition it attains through snow. Barren snowscapes, tinged with sun from the late sunrise fill me with joy. Houses covered in deadly icicles, gleaming from a frosted sunset? Please do. Yes to snow floating past the windows, yes to forging your own path to your next class. I try not to use the paths too frequently. They limit my creative genius of walking.

Trust exercises with snow: The preliminary snow angel pose - eyes to the skies, arms outstreched, feet shoulder width apart. An appeal to the weather gods: "more snow Please." And then, tilting backwards with your whole body and being, stiff as a board, froze solid. Trust the snow. It'll catch you. I can't do that with other people. They might not catch me. Snow will always catch you when you fall.

Snow men aren't a regularity around here. When there are snow sculptures, they tend to be animals, objects, or female. In one case, a giant snow penis, but that's about a male as it gets around here. I, personally, am a fan of the Picasso snowman. Your three basic sections arranged artfully in whatever form you think looks nicest. A carrot nose to go where the snow-person's shin might be. Stick some eyes on; maybe one on the torso, one on the head. You can have an arm coming out of the face, and another coming out of the snow person's butt. How's that for a message? We like to analyze things here. I can just imagine how people here would take that.

I too start hating snow by the end of the winter. I want spring. But not really. It's because it's getting warmer and we're dealing less with snow, and more with mud. I dislike rain. I dislike mud. If I had to get rid of one season, it would be spring. Summer is warm and toasty, and Winter is beautiful and dark and calm. The brooding season. Fall is the feeling of new, and change, and old, and death all at the same time. Fall is comforting. Fall smells like old leaves and woodsmoke. The damp and dry mix together to form that smell of both growth and decomposition. I enjoy the crinkly feeling of dried leaves as they fall apart in your hands. Fall is an inspiration.

I pose some questions to you, dear readers:
If you could get rid of one season, what would it be and why (this should go beyond: I would not get rid of summer because that's when we have break. None of that)? Why do you enjoy the other seasons more? And what are the textures, scents, feelings, tastes and other senses you associate with each season?