Pollyism of the week
Summer is severely overrated when you are carrying a little extra weight and you hate your arms. It’s also overrated if you burn just by walking to the garage and have funnyshaped feet in jandals.
I love winter. I love putting on layers of clothing. I love donning gloves and feeling like a grown-up lady. I love wearing a scarf, although I’m hopeless at making them look chic and feeling Parisian.
The thing I love most, though, is “weather”. How fun was it that day it snowed in Auckland? Hamilton? Whanganui? Wellington? Nelson? Remember that day? If you have snow every year, it’s not something that causes such phenomenal joy, but the day it snowed in places it normally doesn’t snow was one of my favourite days ever.
That was the day we made snowballs on our desk. It was the day Grant’s car slid off the road and onto someone’s front yard. It was the day we had to climb a snowy hill to get home and we slid back just as much as we walked forward.
A million photos were snapped all over New Zealand of us becoming seven-year-olds again – a complete nation sharing a oneness of snow. Guys down the road got out their snowboards and skiied all over the city. Fathers and mothers acted like teenagers, running around in the snow like it was raining money, and kids stared in wonder.
There is something about extreme winter weather – as long as it’s not flooding and damaging – that seems to make everyone sexier to me. That’s a peculiar thing to say, but it’s like extreme weather electrifies everyone – or at least most people. Eyes seem brighter and senses all alert. We tend to speak with more excitement in our voices. The lightning and thunder seems to flick a switch in everyone that makes them come alive.
I bet lots of people fall in love during a thunderstorm. I bet lots of babies are made when the rain is beating down on the old tin roof.
The only person (yes, my puppy is a person) who doesn’t seem to like hail, thunder and lightning is Scrumbles, who does something very odd during a storm. Scrumbles stretches out on his tummy, which is particularly generous, and then starts barking. It’s like he’s trying to get as low as possible to the earth but is yelling, “I’m invisible, but man, am I scary!” He’s not smart, but he’s oh, so cute.
I hope it snows again where it wouldn’t normally. I want to be in that giant collective of big children that takes a million photos exactly the same as everyone else has posted to Facebook. I want to laugh and run around like a teenager, throwing snowballs the size of walnuts.
I love winter. I especially love that no-one ever sees my arms. God bless you cold, wintery weather because you are so good for my self-esteem and fashion sense. Stay warm and dry, and pray for snow!
QAI●●