I have not liked cold weather since I was a kid growing up in the Chicago area. My long-term dislike of cold weather, however, does not keep me from visiting cold places for the right reasons. As a former Russian major in college, I jumped at the chance to visit Moscow several times on business. Nearly all of those trips were in January or February. More recently, I have journeyed to cold climates to search for wolves and the aurora borealis. I tried my hand at snowshoeing. I recently made another winter trip to Yellowstone, I went dog sledding, and I'm going back to Churchhill, Canada, later this year to watch polar bears up close. For the right reasons, I will put up with below-freezing and even below-zero temperatures.
There is something so comforting about soft flannel pajamas, flannel sheets and a stack of warm blankets. Yes, it's chilly in the early morning when I get up and before the house warms up. No, there is nothing sexy about flannel. But I don't care.care. The important.
But make no mistake. I hate winter. I don't like snow, whether walking in it or shoveling it. I don't like cold. I don't like the short days and long nights of winter. I don't like the risk of falling on snow or ice. I hate wearing so many layers of clothes I can barely move. My knee-high, fleece-lined boots and long, down coat help keep me from freezing, but who wants to dress like that?
For me, the best part of winter is, always has been, and always will be, its end.