Enough of the icebox temperatures already; I want some warmth.
Now, before anyone accuses me of being a wussy girl, which I am, by the way, I have lived in a place where it's extremely cold. I've lived in North Dakota where, upon our arrival in January, 1967, my mother, brother and I looked at the sign over the gate to Minot AFB which read "Only the Best Come North" and asked my father if we could leave. After a survey of the frozen tundra, the three of us decided if this was the fate of "the best," we'd take our chances elsewhere as the "not-so-best." That, however, was not to be since you're kinda stuck where the military sends you and my family spent almost 3 years there. So, I've traversed snow drifts as high as the roof of a house, skated on frozen streets to get around and I've had every finger frostbitten. I know what minus 40 degrees F feels like. I know what a blizzard is, and I know what it's like to still have snow on the ground in late May. Regardless of how much fun I thought it was, my point is, I've paid my cold weather dues for a lifetime.
Twelve degrees is just a tad too cold for yours truly. I can deal with temps in the twenties, but get into the teens and ALL the pets start piling up on the bed with you, it's time for March. Yep, I'm willing to endure the Spring Winds to fast forward out of the deep freeze. The winters in Albuquerque have gradually gotten warmer and I've gotten used to that, being an older girl and all that.
I do remember, however, when winter was a different kind of winter in Albuquerque. It was cold, but there were more storms and more snow. I remember when the Sandia Crest Ski Area used to open on a regular basis for downhill skiing. I remember when, on that magical Christmas Eve thirty years ago, we piled into my parents' Volkswagen to tour the luminarias in Old Town and it began to snow. I remember watching the storms roll in from the west, the wall of gray clouds looking like the meteorlogical equivalent of a tidal wave. Even 17 years ago, when I took my first hot air balloon ride on Christmas Eve morning, it was below zero and snow was on the ground. I got stuck manning the inflation fan, which left my feet frozen, but flying over the frozen Rio Grande when all was quiet and hearing the crack of the ice was well worth the numb appendages. We later landed in a ritzy area close to the Nature Center and a husband and wife invited us into their house. We sat for hours, drinking coffee and champagne and who could complain about that?
These days, though, is it too much to ask for the temperature to be in the twenties? Is it? Okay, okay. I'll endure the cold for awhile longer in exchange for one thing:
That it kills the damn scale on my euonymus bushes. And that's my final offer.