Why We All Hate Slushy Snow Season
Seriously. It’s going to be May (yep, did that on purpose so you’d get an ear worm) tomorrow. And after May comes summer. Yet somehow it’s still slushy snow season.
Slushy snow season. The bitter battle between winter and spring. Neither season wants to relent. And because of that, we suffer. We suffer bad.
The weather gets warm. The ground thaws. Birds sing. The sun burns. Shorts and t-shirts emerge from the backs of closets. Pale skin sees daylight. We all get spring fever and our dark moods lift and our hopes soar. Life is great!
And then boom! Snow! Again. Big fat flakes intrude on our lawns and trails and lives. But the shovels were put away. Flowers were pushing through the dirt. Plans were made. We were going to brunch outside this weekend! And now here is this white stuff covering the ground all over again.
Only now the ground is warmer and the snow disappears quicker. Sometimes. So now everything is snowy and slushy and icy and muddy and terrible. It’s slushy snow season. And it sucks.
What can you even do with slushy snow? Nothing good, that’s for sure. Make mud pies. Track it through your house. Test the effectiveness of your GORE-TEX shoes. Bathe your dog. A lot. Wash your bike. A lot. Spray mud all over your legs and back and face. Slip on the hidden patches of ice even though it’s 60 degrees out.
Sure, snow is great. We live in states where it snows for a reason. We love skiing and snowmen and snowboarding and ice skating and snowball fights. Just not now. Not on the last day of April. Unless we are getting into our cars and actively driving to the snow, it needs to go away. Now. Yesterday. Be gone.
Alas. Spring will come in good time. The warm days and brisk nights will have been worth the wait. And then summer will come, and our faces will be melting off and we’ll be cursing the sun and wishing for fall.
Just don’t look out the window. It’s snowing again.
If you enjoy posts about the outdoors that are 55% serious 45% snark, you’ll love SortaBeta. It’s that friend who helps you navigate through the wilderness like a boss, but can’t promise they can help you navigate through life. You’re on your own there.