Southerners VS Snow: An Ongoing War
By Kedron Phillips
Most of us can say that at some point in our lives the news of a snow day filled us with joy, excitement, and anticipation. Now that we have turned the age where we still have to attend school no matter if there’s snow on the ground or not, we are filled with dread when we hear news of snow. The thoughts of digging my car out of the huge mountain that the SVU snow plows have buried it in seems to daunt me. The snow we received on Martin Luther King Day sent me into a rage for multiple reasons. I find no enjoyment in walking to school trudging through the snow (no matter how deep) as it seeps into my shoes soaking my socks for the next three hours while the wind blows making 20 degrees feel like 4.
Part of me feels torn for being so put off by the snow. I love when it is snowing and when there’s fresh white powder laying on the ground. Its beauty at first seems to distract me from the inevitable muddy, cold mess that I have to deal with in the coming 24 hours. As it is snowing, it almost makes it more fun to bake cookies from scratch while I sit by the fireplace sipping my warm, hot chocolate binging the TV show, Everybody Loves Raymond. The news of a digital day of school brings joy as I know I will be able to sleep until 5 minutes before the class starts, walk to my kitchen in my hoodie, fuzzy pj pants, and fuzzy slippers, and sit on mute with my camera off for the next hour. It’s what comes after that is the bane of my existence.
Coming from a family that goes on ski trips, this isn’t a very good opinion to have. Ski slopes in North Carolina actively have to blow snow for the simple reason that it’s not cold enough to snow on its own and it’s definitely not cold enough to not melt. So what do we have? Ski slopes that are surrounded by mud on both sides and nice mud holes at the bottom of each slope. Personally I remember being ten years old on one of these nice, fun family trips and falling backwards into a gigantic mud puddle turning my white snow suit a nice shade of brown. I remember the feeling of slipping backwards in front of all the other ten years old who, for some reason, were having no trouble at all as I could barely stand up on my own two feet. Not only was I covered in snow, but as my dad tried his best to clean snow and mud off me, it only smeared it more and more. To this day I don’t see how he thought that was going to work. From that point forward, snow and I…don’t mix.
At some point we have to realize the “happiness” from snow does not outweigh the aggravation that comes with it. I am in full favor of locking myself in my house and not coming out until spring. This is a lot of talk from someone who lives in a state that can’t make its mind up if it wants to be 60 degrees or 20 degrees in January. I mean, we’re in the south after all we only get snow like what…once every 5 years?
