Jackie Cope and Larissa Lieberson
Olivia Kalb, A&E Editor
Waking up in winter is one of the best feelings. Everything is cold outside of the little nest you’ve shaped from the covers. You’re curled up in the perfect position with blankets, warmed from your body heat, covering every inch.You wait a minute, maybe 10, just lying in bed and enjoying the absolute rightness of the moment.
When you finally move, ready to face the day, you look out the window and what do you see? A frozen paradise to adventure in, cold grey trees and a bleak sky. There are few sights more beautiful than that of the perfect stretch of untouched white.
I love snow. It is by far the best part of winter. It turns a depressing and dreary landscape into a blank canvas of opportunity.
The first step outside into the first snowstorm is the best step of my entire year. That one perfect boot print is the beginning of snow fights and sledding and snow men and snow angels and hot chocolate melting away the chill from your fingers.
And what brings the family together more than a ball of snow in the face, or the shoving of snow down one’s back?
Okay, maybe the event itself isn’t fun, but the anticipation of retaliation is. Who doesn’t love a good ol’ snowball fight?
And, of course, how can I forget snow days?
Snow gives us one of the greatest gifts of all, no school. You get to sleep in and spend the day however you wish, whether it’s playing outside or turning on the TV with a cup of cocoa.
How can you not love that, even if you don’t enjoy playing in the snow?
Jane Levy, Staff Writer
Let’s put it this way: the only thing I like about snow is my fluffy white childhood teddy bear, Snowy. The white winter fluff and I have never really hit it off.
Believe me when I say, all the hype about playing in the snow is overrated. When I was younger, my mom would bundle (suffocate) me in every shirt, fleece, jacket, hat and pair of gloves I owned. Emerging from the back door, I was a massive marshmallow waddling through the winter wasteland.
Ha, you thought I was going to say wonderland, didn’t you?
On the rare occasion that I agreed to play outside, I lasted five minutes tops, after spending at least 20 preparing for my venture.
With every trudge, I sank deeper and deeper until my chin was paving my way. Snow rushed into my pants, until my poor little butt practically had icicles hanging from it. Within seconds I was a sick-looking Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer.
You can just forget sledding; I face-planted enough on my own two feet.
And I’m not going to lie, I’m still frustrated by all my failed attempts at making a snowman.
Heck, I can’t even make a snowball that doesn’t explode in mid-air.
Snow sports are also a no-go. Never have I ever and never will I ever, volunteer to speed down a snow-covered mountain against gusts of piercing wind at raw, hypothermic altitudes.
If my family ever decides to head up to Vermont for a weekend, you’ll find me perfectly happy by the fire, enjoying a good book, sipping a cozy cup of hot chocolate and hugging my own snuggly Snowy.
Who needs real snow anyway?
When icy flakes fall from an endless grey sky, I long for radiance only a shining sunny day can provide. If I could, I would spend every second of winter hibernating in my bed. There’s no way I’m playing in the snow this winter. SNOW way.