Inevitable snow: Take it or leave it?

As I gaze out my sister’s dining room window on a cold winter morning, I spot a fluffy gray squirrel scampering among the bare branches of a large oak tree. I notice its full coat of fur and bushy tail, unlike our Florida squirrels.

I’m visiting my sister on Long Island, where my family and I lived for 50 years before my husband and I moved in 1999, first to South Carolina and then to Naples, Florida, in 2012. The squirrel settles itself onto a large branch and huddles against the cold, folding its tail over its back like a warm winter coat. I’m intrigued by its seeming contentment on this frosty morning, and a wave of nostalgia washes over me.

Soft puffs of icy white snowflakes drift slowly from the steel gray sky, reminders of so many other winter days. I remember how I enjoyed watching from our kitchen window as the snow fell. If my husband had built a roaring fire in the den fireplace, it was so pleasant to watch the snow from the big bay window while sipping a cup of hot cocoa or tea. And sledding down the steep hill at a nearby golf course was a fun activity with my two boys. I recall those days with great fondness, and I miss them.

However, I also recall the very early mornings when I drove 15 miles from East Setauket to Southside Hospital in Bay Shore, where I worked as a registered nurse in the operating room. Using the snow shovel we kept in the back hall in preparation for snowstorms, I had to first clear a path to our long driveway.

If the snow was deep, I had to shovel the driveway before starting the sometimes-perilous drive in the dark on roads that had not yet been cleared by snowplows. There were no windows in the operating room, and throughout the day we bombarded arriving patients and doctors with questions about the weather and road conditions.

If the snow had not stopped or if the roads were icy, I had another treacherous drive home. Once arriving there, I often faced the frustration of a wall of plowed snow at the end of my driveway that had to be cleared. And if the snow in the driveway was deep, I would have to shovel it again. I surely don’t miss those days.

I do miss the change of seasons. In Florida, every day pretty much looks the same, palm trees swaying in a gentle breeze, interspersed briefly with summer rains before the sun blazes once again in a cloudless blue sky. Sometimes in January, we may see a few days of cooler temperatures, but there are no crocuses to announce the coming of spring, no colorful leaves falling in autumn. Northerners, Canadians and Europeans flock to Naples in the winter, causing crowded stores and restaurants and unbearable traffic. Some people call this paradise, though I don’t think I would agree. But it sure beats shoveling snow and driving in it!

Reader Dianne Farrugia Haaga now lives in Naples, Florida.