I used to live in a tiny town in Northern Vermont, known for it’s record snowfalls. My kids went to school even if the temperatures were near or below zero. In July my kids took swimming lessons at nearby Joe’s Pond, and often came home shivering, with blue lips. We put storm windows up in September and made sure cords of wood were split and stacked inside the barn attached to our house, where we could retrieve it easily when the wood stove was burning low. All of the produce from the garden was in and preserved by the end of August. We made and sold our own apple cider from the falls from our antique apple trees in September and October. I made sure the hay loft was filled with bales of hay to feed my sheep and angora goats during the cold months, way before summer was over.

 

I lived there for about twenty years. Toward the end of that time, dealing with the dark, cold months was getting quite old. I suffered from what I called the Winter Blues, officially known as Seasonal Affective Disorder, which usually took hold in December and lasted well into March or April, depending on how the winter weather was going.

This weekend it snowed 18” here in Charlottesville. It was dark and cold. I got sick with a very bad cold and didn’t appreciate the snow, even though it’s absolutely beautiful. It reminded me of Vermont and why I moved here to Virginia.

This winter there has been very little snowfall in Vermont.  The ski areas are going bust.

It stopped snowing here around 7 pm on Saturday.  On Sunday the sun came out, it warmed up to near 50 F and the snow started melting. Monday more melting and sun.  Today I’m going to the grocery store.  My cold lingers and it’s going to rain tomorrow.

Who dares say that global climate change is a myth?

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