There is no outdoor living going on up here in New Hampshire in January, that's for sure. In fact, everyone stays holed up inside their houses from about mid-December to mid-March; the only neighbors you see on foot out there are the ones who have dogs that need walking. (Why do I keep thinking I'd like to have a dog again?)
While down in Tampa and Ft. Lauderdale, I was actually starting to ponder the merits of becoming one of those "Snow Birds."
"Hey, we should buy a house down here! Wouldn't the kids and grandkids love to visit us if we lived here and had a swimming pool?" I asked my hubby. Having been temporarily infected by the Florida fever I'd caught, he actually agreed it might be a good idea. I mean, they really know how to live down there!
But you know what? It's true that no matter how plush and comfortable your surroundings are when you're away on vacation, there really is no place like home. That's a timeworn cliche for a reason. Even our youngest son, who'd spent the previous evening lounging in a hot tub with four of his cousins, said this when we landed in Boston: "I wish I had a few more days at home before I have to go back to school." So I asked him if he would have liked a longer stay down south, but he answered no. "I'm a homebody, Mom, you know that," he said.
It's cold. It's gray. It's snowy and freezing-rainy. But it's home, and we love it. It's filled with happy memories--some of them involving little boys bundled up in parkas and snow pants, romping around in the white stuff. Little boys like this one.
|(My middle son was the model for this drawing.)|
I don't always want to be cold; but when I do, I prefer New Hampshire. Stay warm my friends.