When the folks from Canada, or Siberia or Norway tell me that what we have down here is not Winter, it's not that I can't understand their point. I have spent many Winters in European countries where there were postcardesque Winters and picture-perfect Christmases... you know, evergreens, snow, freezing temperatures, you name it. Yes, I miss it sometimes. I miss it in a way I always miss the third world after a few months. I miss the resonance of natural beauty, the lack of safety nets, but most importantly, I miss the inspiration that comes from uneasiness, sort of a resourcefulness that's born in extremity, you know what I am talking about? That very thing that makes you feel alive when you rise equal to some big challenge?
That being said, you see, when I look back at the last time I encountered snow, namely changing a flat tire with Geoff on the icy highway in Dublin, Ireland, then no, I do not miss it. Having my feet enveloped in soaking wet socks the entire day? No, I do not miss that. But getting back to the ocean-front place in Port Marnoch, where we were staying... curling up by the fire with a book and drink of hot Irish tea? Oh yes, you can't beat that. Then we'd go down to the pub, where they too had the fire going, eat greasy food in our thick turtlenecks, mingle with the locals... yes, I miss that, I miss all of it and I miss it badly.
True, we don't have those Jack Frost Winters here. The winters we have here remind me of the winters in Islamabad, or Karachi or Bangalore... It's not truly a one-season place, like let's say Malaysia, where there really isn't any difference between Summer and Winter.
See, Fall and Winter here are moderately cool and fairly dry. Not sunny. So, so, so very beautiful, I really can't describe it. See, down here, by the Florida beaches, we have tourists all Summer long, it's all crowded, it's all international, all the restaurants and parking spaces are full, the traffic backed up... Then comes Fall, the temperatures drop to where it's too cold to swim (crazy people like me prefer to swim when the sun isn't out) and we have our towns and beaches back. Not to mention our parking spots! It's so quiet you can actually hear things.
Although true winter attire would be an overkill, we do wear knits and boots, and contrary to popular belief, we do need central heat at times. Geoff and I have the fire going just about every night but like to sleep with the windows open inhaling the crisp air.
Going down to the sea, eating on the veranda of some tacky old cafe and listening to live music? Let me tell you, it does beat changing flat tires on frosty Dublin highways.
(FYI, that's Geoff in this picture)
There's an entire populace called "snow birds" who descend down here year after year, to spend their entire Winter here, you know, to escape those nasty Northern blizzards. They are not really tourists though. Mostly retired Northern couples, you'll hardly see them wearing beach towels and flaunting tattoos, and although I am not quite sure exactly which states they come from, some of them do make right-hand turns from the left-lane and vice versa.
Then comes Spring Break and we're officially back to tourist season. The snow birds are replaced by drunken college kids in string bikinis and the the cycle of the seasons resumes.
PHOTO CREDIT: HIGH COUNTRY PRESS (HOT TEA), NEW ENGLAND OUTDOOR CENTER (SNOW CABIN), VICTORIAN FIREPLACE SHOP (STOVE), THIS NEXT (IRISH PUB SIGN))
Thanks for stopping by, everyone.
Until next time;
Agnes
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