Brownish-Yellow Christmas

First off, I want to thank each and every one of you who checked out our Live Stream Q&A on Sunday! You can still view it by clicking HERE but I might not answer any questions you post. I'll definitely be having another Q&A soon. A shorter one. But I had a blast.
I'd also like to note the fact that I'm wearing short sleeves right now. In December. Part of me is upset, but the other part of me is happy that I don't have to wear a sleeping bag with arms every time I leave the house. But at the same time, being cold is fun. When I lived in Illinois, I'd always enjoy feeling the gentle kiss of a frosty wind on my face or cuddling up with my comforter on a cold night.
There were things I didn't like about the cold, of course. I kept gerbils for a few years, and I'd wash out their cage once a week. I'd normally do this outside, but in the winter, I'd run some water in the bathtub and sanitize it afterwards. My nine-year-old self disliked sanitizing the bathtub. In fact, my now-eighteen-year-old self dislikes cleaning tubs and showers. But the thing about washing the gerbil's cage is that your hands get wet. And when it's cold and windy and your hands are wet, they start to hurt and go numb, which is a rather unpleasant sensation. So I was forced to stick to the bathtub.
The wonderful thing about a northern winter is the snow. Snow is pretty. It shows animal tracks. You can build snowmen, make snow angels, go sledding, and have snowball fights. I'd try to build an igloo every year, but we never had quite enough snow for that.
The terrible thing about a southern winter is that there's no snow. There's just dead grass. I believe I once compared the empty field behind my house to a sloth pelt. It's a brownish-yellow color, not unlike a bale of hay. Add the skeleton trees and a few clouds, and you've got yourself a dreary landscape.

Not that it's all bad, of course. Like I said, I'm wearing short sleeves. I've been wearing sweaters and turtlenecks all week for work, and it's nice to have a break. I feel free! I thought my sister was crazy for getting me a short-sleeved Christmas shirt. Turns out, she wasn't!
I like being able to run around barefoot. I'd run around barefoot in Illinois, too, but not without Mom and Dad telling me to put on a pair of socks. I spent so much time standing on our tile entry-way floor that my feet are nearly immune to cold; I don't notice that they're cold until they start to hurt. I will go outside to feed my dog barefoot when it's thirty-five degrees and drizzling.
However, the few times I've gone on a hike over Christmas break and decided to wade across a creek that's higher than my snow boots, I've regretted it. It's cold, of course. It's painfully cold. Boots that are designed to keep water out are also pretty good at keeping water in. It's like walking around with your feet in fish tanks. Squish, squash, your sock is falling off, ouch, pins and needles, swords and shark's teeth. Where's the nearest shortcut out of the woods?
Next time I hike, I'll be sure to bring a canoe. Or at least a decently long two-by-four so I can make a bridge. If I hiked in Illinois, though, I might have more dire things to worry about. Like hypothermia or falling through a thin patch of ice.
In that aspect, a warmer Christmas is a better Christmas.
Do you enjoy snow, or would you prefer a warmer holiday season? Let me know in the comments below! God bless you, dear readers, and don't forget to Like us on Facebook!