I don’t do cold. Seriously. I don’t. My functionality drops tremendously in an icy environment, and by icy I mean any temperature below 70 degrees Fahrenheit. When I found out it was going to snow at the beach, though, the little kid in me showed up, peering out the window hourly to find out if it had arrived yet. This would be my first experience with the unlikely occurrence, which just so happened to be part of an even more unique phenomenon called a Bombogenesis that was to happen north of my location.
The moment I saw those big, white flakes pouring from the sky, my stomach did a tiny flip and I began the layering process, adding gloves on top of gloves as Tynley bounded like a puppy, shaking her head happily in helicopter circles while running toward me and then the door repeatedly to remind me of the path we needed to take to get out there.
Let’s stop at this layering part for a moment. For all of you who live in this type of cold weather all winter or worse, for multiple seasons, how in the world do you deal with it daily? Call me lazy, but I’m a flip-flops-on and out-the-door person when I’m ready to go outside, which is always. This? Three shirts underneath two jackets and then I remember I wanted to wear that bottom shirt another day? As I tried to lace up my boots with range of motion comparable to that of a marshmallow woman, I suddenly became aware of why I needed to put down the cookies when the Christmas season ended.
I reminded Tynley that it would be best if she didn’t tear another ACL in the snow and she returned my words with crazy face. With eyes sparkling, tongue rolled out to the floor Odie style, and a giant smile, her rear end sat “patiently,” ready to spring into motion before the queue word “Okay!” fully left my lips.
Out we went for another adventure item on our bucket list. The wind was making palm fronds bend like Gumbi and the snow was pouring down diagonally just so that it landed in our eyes, but we didn’t care. We were the two “kids” bouncing excitedly with a ball across the perfectly-textured, powdery snow at midnight. Once the sun made its face present later in the AM, we would lace those boots up again to check things out more thoroughly!
We set out on foot the next day, exploring every aspect of our seaside surroundings. Tynley’s sporadic, cat-like jolts of running mixed with a brown nose glued to the ground told me she was as excited as I was. I allowed my childlike wonder to guide me. What does that warm-weather item look like with snow on it? Oooohh! What about this? Ahhhh. I felt like a kid in a candy store as my eyes surveyed every detail of this new take on a familiar setting. I didn’t want to miss a thing. The mind has a hard time accepting snow on Adirondack chairs. Icicles hanging from no surfing signs seem out of place. The small line of sand where the warm ocean meets the cold snow acts as a tiny path on which the best seashells are found. The juxtaposition of a snow mound with a line of sailboats is a delightful sight. Though I’d be cold, this sailboat scene was almost calling me as if to say, come, see what this looks like from a different perspective: the one out on the water. It touted, there’s a world out there; experience as much of it as you can!
The cold I’m not a fan of, but that day I didn’t notice. Seven miles later and with satisfaction, Tyn plopped down on the floor and I began to peel off all of my layers so I could thaw out. Thirty minutes after that, when the last glove was finally removed and a heap of clothing lay in a pile on my couch, I sat, too, and added a check on the list next to “See snow at the beach.”
My advice? Don’t let the many layers of everyday life stop you from doing the things you really want to do.