A little over a week ago, I walked outside sporting a short sleeved shirt. Spring was in the air. I know that we are only on the cusp of February, but I was deceived into the promise of tulips and butterflies, dogwood and azalea blossoms. Funny how I have only spent a year and a half as an official resident of the South, but I have most definitely become a Southern girl when it comes to my thoughts and feelings about winter. I simply don't think it should exist past Christmas. I have worn my sweaters. I have adorned my coat. My scarves. An occasional set of mittens. There is no reason for winter to remain. That is why when an ice storm from a place that is not heaven blasted through our state this weekend, my body protested immensely. I laughed when my students told me about the weather man's expectation for snow. Yet, on Friday night the snow came. Then the freezing rain came. The wind. The cold.
Here's the thing. In Utah, when a storm like that comes through, everything goes on as normal. People drive. They go to school. They go to work. They go to church.
Here, none of those things happen. The entire town shuts down. No one is equipped for snow removal, people are petrified to drive in the foreign white powder, and businesses and schools close because no one will show up anyway.
Don't worry. We laugh in the face of such danger. We were prepared, so we did not fear.
Did we go to the grocery store and buy out all of the bread and milk like other Kinston residents? No.
Did we already have a perfectly stocked food storage, which meant we needed to make no such trip to the grocery store? No, not exactly...
When I found out it was going to be that cold, and that we might be trapped inside for an entire weekend, I thought of one thing: moving in with my in-laws.
Sure enough, there were nine of us plus a tiny tot at my husband's childhood home this weekend. We had a blast. It felt like an extended holiday vacation.
We played board games.
We played card games.
We laughed and chatted.
We entertained the most precious toddler I have ever known.
We curled up in front of the gas fireplace when the electric heat failed downstairs.
We ate (because even if MY pantry is not perfectly stocked, Mama Joy's IS).
We stayed in our pajamas all day on Saturday.
We watched the yard turn into a winter landscape that could easily be mistaken for Narnia: trees draped with icicles and car windows laced with kisses from Jack Frost.
When church was canceled I can't say I was sad to think I no longer had to prepare a talk for sacrament meeting.
When it was announced that school is canceled for tomorrow I can't say I was sad to think I no longer had to get up at 6:00 in the morning.
The weekend has been pretty grand, even if I am irked at North Carolina for deceiving me into wishful thinking for Spring.
Now that we are home in our cozy cottage with plaster walls, single-paned windows, and a heating system that was probably installed sometime before I was born and is (to quote our heating and air guy) "running on borrowed time," I am most definitely sure that we made the right decision by moving out during the brunt of the storm. I am also most definitely certain that I am beyond thankful that this type of cold weather is a novelty in the state that I now call home. Otherwise, I think my love and devotion for my cute house might start to waver.