I grew up in south central Virginia, in the foothills of the Appalachian* mountains, and about 20 minutes drive from North Carolina. In terms of weather, it was a fantastic place the grow up. The mountains shielded us from any really terrible weather, and being in the South it's already fairly decent most of the year. At 22 I moved to Illinois to be with the lovely man who is now my husband. This January marks the six year anniversary of my being in Illinois.
So, this morning M. ran into the bedroom from warming his car. "Toe's school is closed again. It's negative fifteen degrees outside." My first thought, "Hmm, if I go outside naked, I wonder if I'd freeze to death instantly." I'm tellin' ya, those kind of temperatures don't make sense to someone who grew up in the South. They boggle the mind. My Dad used to fuss at me if I went outside without a jacket when it was 60 degrees. Negative anything is incomprehensible.
When we flew to Virginia this past December to see my family the temperature was in the 40s and it hadn't snowed. It had done nothing but snow since before Thanksgiving in our part of Illinois. It seems to snow six months out of the year. In fact, I calculated that in my first year living in Illinois I saw more inches of snow than my entire 22 years in Virginia. And not only is there more of it, but it actually stays for days on end. Bach home it might snow an inch, but it's gone by the next day. "Oh look, kids snow..uh, nevermind it's thawed."--my Mom. "Oh look, kids, grass! We have grass again finally!"--Me.
Yep, nothing makes you appreciate Virginia quite like the weather.
* We pronounce it "Appa-latch-in" (appa like apple), not Appa-lay-shin. Thanks! I'm a firm believer in saying regional names like the people who live there say them. Like Colorado with an sharp "ah!" sound instead of the "Say ah" sound.