Winter has arrived in Michigan.  I despise winter.  I hate the cold, the snow, and the ice.  There are no thrills in putting on layers upon layers of clothes just to go to the grocery store.  It is not exciting to break a trail through a foot of snow from my back door to my car.  I lose all sense of dignity when I find myself waddling like a penguin in an effort to remain upright on icy surfaces.   By mid-January I have grown weary of exploring the white lumps in the driveway when trying to locate my car, only to discover that once again the lump I thought was my car was just another snowdrift.

Some people call Michigan a "winter wonderland."  I'm guilty of this as well, but it doesn't have the same meaning to me as it does to them. When they say it, they're thinking of all the things there are to do in MI during the winter; things like sledding, snowmobiling, ice fishing, skiing, snowshoeing, etc.  To me, winter wonderland means "I wonder how many more months until winter is over and I can actually see the land again?"  

No, I do not like winter.  I feel that if I were meant to enjoy winter, I would have been born a polar bear.  I'm more like a black bear.  They hibernate; they go into a warm, dark place as soon as the cold and snow comes and they don't venture out again until Spring has arrived.  I think they have the right idea.