Am I the only person on this good earth that loves snow? All around me, even in my own house, I’m bombarded with complaints of cold, whines about shoveling, grumbles about snowstorms.

I grew up in the northern-most reaches of Michigan, close to the Canadian border. There were homes with doors on the second story so people could get out in January. I remember making snow tunnels through my entire front yard, not just in snowbanks. I remember sledding off the porch roof straight out into the yard. By February, you couldn’t see the grocery store from the street anymore because the parking lot snow had been piled up 30 feet high. I’m very nostalgic for cold blustery days.

I’m sure that’s part of my problem.

Nostalgia will get you every time.

We moved from that place just before I came to BYU, so I’ve never been back. My memories have grown in importance, unmarred by any pesky realities. I never lived there as an adult, I never had to be responsible for driving to work in 4 feet of new fallen snow. My memories are all about playing and snow days and sleds and snow forts. It’s very pleasant, if you must know.

But because of my lovely snow-filled childhood, I can hardly bear another rainy, dreary, see the dead-grass January! It’s currently raining outside. Raining — in January. There should be no chance of rain. There should be no chance that the snow will melt. It’s January. January means cold and snow and forts. I have tried, unsuccessfully, to get my husband to see my point. He just laughs and I suspect he thinks I might be crazy. He won’t move to Northern Michigan because, get this, he says there aren’t any jobs there!

Jobs!? Who cares about the jobs part. People didn’t really leave their neighborhoods for most of the winter anyway, so what’s the point of a job? And since winter really lasts into June or early July (I remember a blizzard while I was twirling a baton in the 4th of July parade), there would only be a month or two of earnest working anyway. Let’s just go there, eat wild bears for survival, and built snow forts.

I want my children to have happy snow memories. I want them to remember the massive fort they built in the backyard that they played in all winter. I want them to create 20 foot tall ice sculptures of princesses and dragons. I want them to jump on their cross country skis and ski around the neighborhood or to the five-and-dime just for fun. I want them to get up in the morning and jump to the radio to find out if it’s a snow day.

I want them to…well…ummm…I guess I want them to have my memories. Is that so wrong?