pansies.
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Waaah. Waaaah.
Waaaaaaah. This is the sound of New Englanders in March.
I've ranted about the seasons before, but winter is its own special thing up here in New England. Everyone loves the quiet beauty of that first snow in the dark days of December (or November if you're not worrying about alliteration); however, winter has a habit of outstaying its welcome, and when that happens, watch out - even the ski lovers and the snowboard fanatics turn into the grumpy bastards that Robert Frost wanted to keep on the other side of his stone fence. This year has been worse than usual, with record-setting snow accumulations and one storm after another. In the beginning, there was the usual local pride in New Englander stoicism and woodsy ruggedness, with people bragging about how fast they cleared their driveway with the new snowblower. But now that it's still snowing in March, they start bellyaching like Thom Yorke forced to sit through a Bush/Cheney rally held at a Starbuck's. Bostonians are the worst of the bunch. The city is right on the water, so the metro area doesn't get nearly as much snow as they do, say, an hour inland. But Bostonians are right there with people from Maine or Worcester (getit? Wusster?), griping about the snow, bitterly debating sand vs. salt, threatening to move to Florida. Oh, boo hoo, woe is me. Suck it up folks. You'll be dusting off your window A/C before you know it. |