It is pretty when it comes down...I'll give you that. And that's all. I can't stand the cold and the mess and the slick roads, and the people who won't give themselves an extra moment because of the slick roads. I would be fine never to see another plow or salt truck, or to try to wash all that yuck off the vehicle, or off your clothes or jackets or gloves. Then that pretty stuff gets all dirty and icky, and sits in giant mountains in parking lots for months on end. Oh, I haven't even touched on ice. There's a real hoot, when you fall on your rear because you didn't see it, or when the sidewalk salt gets into the pads of the poor dog's feet and makes them cry, or when it gets so heavy it breaks your tree limbs off and kills your trees. Then there's the cold...when the weatherman says that exposed skin is likely to freeze in so many seconds or minutes, and after years of being exposed to it and probably having been frostbitten to a degree, my fingers hurt almost instantly. Please, take my winter too!
BC
