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It’s going to be winter for a while in Vermont. And apparently in most places, even Georgia. Stay warm and safe, all! Aside from global warming, freakish weather or whatever you believe, the freezing southern temperatures and wintry precipitation come as a shock to me. For the six years that I lived in the south (Virginia and North Carolina), I recall only a handful of snowfalls. One happened to be on President Obama’s 2009 inauguration, which made for an extra special day. The other snowfalls were in Virginia. I recall a few inches that would melt by late morning.
Mother Nature definitely entertained herself for those six years of my southern life by bringing snow to New York the weeks before and after I visited. That is no exaggeration. Basically, I didn’t see a good snowfall for six years.
Enter my Vermont life, and the snowiest winters ever (for me), and the coldest I’ve ever been. Still not a skier, winters are not my favorite. Blame the problem of permanently cold feet. But winter comes with starkly crisp sunny days, the smell of wood burning stoves, white blanketed landscapes, and leafless trees (all the better for photographing buildings). Still, January and February are long and winter lingers long past its welcome. Perhaps my southern life lingers in my preference to warm weather. Until summer, when Vermont is absolutely perfect.
Climate and weather are so critical to defining place, wouldn’t you say? They serve as foundation to memories. What temperature was it? What were you wearing? What were you doing? Start telling a story and see how long it takes before weather or climate plays a roll.
What are thoughts on weather and place? Do you stories include the two? I’d love to know.