I get it. The snow is inconvenient. It chills your bones, it freezes your fingers and it makes you slip in front of that girl you were trying to impress. But honestly? I think such a strong hatred of the snow is unjust.
There’s a definite novelty of the cold - I’d argue that sitting inside, wearing a sweater and getting work done while a blizzard whirls outside is one of the coziest feelings in the world. The aesthetic of comfort contrasted to the beauty of the storm is a sensation that’s hard to beat.
But maybe you’re thinking, so what? Being inside is fine, but what about when I have to walk to class? I won’t argue with you there. Getting stabbed in the face by millions of tiny pieces of ice is awful. But I don’t think that misery overshadows the times when the snow is gentle, pure and perfect.
It’s possible that I’m over-romanticizing the Northwest Indiana winters and being overly optimistic about your lake-effect snow. This is only because I never experienced winter like this before coming to Valpo. I grew up on the shore of Maryland, between two large bodies of water - any winter storms we got were just gray skies, freezing rain, and high winds, while the ocean tempest pushed the reprieve of snow inland.
The type of snow we’ve seen so far this school year was quickly raged at and trampled upon with scarce a snowman to adorn the landscape. If that snow had fallen in my hometown, it would have been the only snow of its kind for at least five years. Schools would have been canceled. Snowball fights and sledding would occur. It would have been celebrated. Cherished.
Instead, it had the misfortune of falling here, at a place and time where the people have received the gift of snow far too often to truly appreciate its presence. Like a married couple losing the honeymoon flame, the Valpo community views snow with apathy - or worse, annoyance.
I get the fact that snow isn’t perfect. I make no claims that it is. But it is a force of nature, and a beautiful one, with such important nostalgia attached. I spent my childhood wishing for the white Christmases that you take for granted every year. I would’ve lengthened every storm if it meant I could spend more time sledding down the pathetic hills that, when hidden under a sheet of white, passed for the highest of mountains.
Maybe this is an unpopular opinion, but that’s okay. Whether or not you love the snow, it will keep coming - this can’t be ignored.
But wouldn’t it be nicer to say, “The snow will not be here forever, so we’ll love it while it’s here”? Isn’t the idea of cherishing the current season more precious than the thought of grumbling until April?
You can stomp your boots and swear at the wind. I’m going to steal a tray from Founders and go sledding.
The views expressed in this article are those of the writer and not necessarily of The Torch.