Despite the fact that I am now into my fourth year here in Provo, I still can't help but feel a little bit of shock when I wake up to this:
I like to think that I've learned the seasons, that my eyes have become adept to spotting even the most invisible ice slicks, that my feet have mastered the perfect shuffling technique to safely cross said ice slicks, and that I can drive in even the scariest conditions to arrive at my destination in one piece. But even with these acquired skills, I still occasionally (emphasis on occasionally) find myself losing my perfect balance on pesky, unnoticed ice slabs and still sometimes happen to find myself outdoors severely unprepared for the cold temperatures. I guess it just proves that I can't yet consider myself a native to Provo.
Now I'm not writing this to lament my huge dislike of this crazy weather, in fact, I kind of like them. Maybe the whole idea of four distinct seasons is still novel enough to this California native. To tell the truth, when everyone else in Utah Valley is verbally wondering when the snow storms are going to end, there's a part of me that's secretly hoping they last for a very long time.
I will admit one thing, though. I absolutely loath having to scrap snow and ice off of my car. I haven't quite figured out how to factor scrapping time into my ETA.
On this particular day I resorted to just using the shovel used on our driveway to release my car.
So, Winter, I'm ok if you choose to stick around for awhile, even considering my 8AM walks to school.