It is 90 degrees outside (feels like 99), and yet I am inside in sweats and under two fleece blankets with the a/c blasting. There is most obviously something wrong with me.
Maybe it is my deep inner need to relieve my childhood winters in Minnesota?
Oh how I miss the snow.
The ice skating at recess, the throwing boiling water into the air and watching it fall down as snow, the sledding, the snow ball fights…
One day I will live somewhere where it snows. There is nothing quite like the first snow of the season. You look up as all the frozen crystals fall around you as though you walked into a life size snow globe. As each tiny flakes lands gracefully on your face and melts into the warmth of your skin, you know a magical time of year has arrived. There is something in winter that simply is not in the other seasons. Sure, they have their value. But, winter transforms the world into a magical place of endless possibilities.
p.s. don’t eat the yellow snow.
New Year’s Eve we took our daughter for her first hike. She hiked like a champ. I myself was drenched in sweat and breathing heavy and she was just smiling away. Could have been because the last 1/2 mile a carried her. Just Maybe. There is a beautiful spot about 2 hours north with some little waterfalls.
I didn’t see it coming. You see Christmas is my best friend. We reminisce all year about our good times together and plan for our next visit. We listen to our special music together, bake cookies, and decorate everything in sight. Christmas never disappoints me. She has been there for me every year no matter what is going on in our lives.
This year I decided it was time to throw my own Christmas party. I have been to many Christmas parties but never hosted one myself. In trying to plan the perfect party I decided a cookie swap would be perfect. Who doesn’t need more cookies in their life? I begin to invite people growing more and more excited each passing day. As guests begin to arrive the cookies begin to pile up like a growing mountain on the dining room table. Each time I look back it as though they have begun to multiply on their own. The table is now overflowing. At first I am not too worried. Everyone will take cookies home it will be ok. As people slowly leave the party the cookies don’t go down in size they appear to still be growing. They are going to take over my house. I have to go on the defense before it’s too late. I try to get people to take them home, but it’s as if they know the cookies are about to attack and they want nothing to do with them. The cookies begin to appear in different places throughout the house. How is this possible? What do they want? What am I going to do? There is no choice you must eat them, I tell myself. But there are so many it can’t be done!
I have no choice but to hide from the cookies and hope they give up.
There is something different about the air in Louisiana. One day if you ever visit this great unique state you will understand.
Enter my theory as to why:
The air is alive. Literally. As people have passed away they get trapped in the thick swamp air making it thicker and thicker. Until the air is so filled with spirits that just a step outdoors in July and you feel like you are parting the air with each painstaking step. The sweat drips off your face yet never makes it to the ground. They soak it up.
But this must only be a problem in the summer. Wrong. Because every know and then the temperature drops below thirty. (That is not cold you say) But it is not the cold of which you are used to. It is as though in one small swipe every soul hanging in the live oaks took one deep breath in all at the same time. And the air is at once lifeless. Cutting right to the bone.
Be careful what you say they are listening…