This is the winter I am used to. Driving on a gravel road, looking to my right or left and seeing the tracks of a combine, a truck or a tractor in the field. The shelter of trees in the background tell me that somewhere nearby is a house or a farm, even if you can’t see it. These trees speckle a landscape of flat land, rolling hills and spacious skies. The bright sun doesn’t offer much warmth, and there is the presence of bitter wind. The ground a usually dull shade of brown, dying form the frost, the cold… the winter. The winter’s are harsh in Nebraska. But to me, they are worth it.
Winter in St. Louis is very different. It’s cloudy, damp, and kinda sad. Things are green, red, yellow. But not brown. The birds are still outside chirping, you can still go outside without a coat (usually a scarf will suffice, maybe some gloves on an usually cold day). Always take an umbrella or wear your raincoat. Invest in rainboots or you’ll spend two or three seasons with wet shoes, wet socks and wet feet.
But most people that I talk to about St. Louis weather, when I describe Nebraska winter they say they will take winter in St. Louis any day over snow. I just don’t understand that. Snow is magical in my mind. It gives new life to a dead earth, it shines and shimmers and sparkles… it in a word, it’s gorgeous. For me, it’s home.