Winter mornings can be cold here in south-central Texas, but the days usually warm up nicely. Too nicely for me, however. I start out in a sweater and end up in a short-sleeved shirt. We get out of bed and turn up the heater, but it stays off all afternoon. Danny’s happy as a lark: “It’s the end of December and I’m in shorts!” Hooray for him, I say. The weather here is too fickle for me, changing 20 to 30 degrees during the day is disgusting. I love wearing sweaters, cords, and socks; I melt when the temperature is over 70.
Most people move to Texas permanently, like my parents, or just spend the winter here to escape the cold and snowy northern states. But unless northerners go to places near the border, like McAllen, Brownsville, Harlingen, and Port Isabel, they cannot escape winter entirely.
I’ll admit that 40 degrees and rain chills me to the bone, but inside the house it’s warm. Cold weather inspires me to bake a pie and/or make some soup. That’s what winter is all about, being comfortable and comforted. Viewing gorgeous snow through windows, cuddled on the couch with a good book – of course, not here – but one cannot help wanting.