Venturing out of season

New England has been pummeled with feet of snow and inches of ice over the past few months. Hundreds of thousands of residents in central Massachusetts and New Hampshire lost power for weeks around Christmastime after a monstrous storm that blanketed roads and power lines in ice. My driveway is a skating rink, and I have to scrape a layer of frost off my car every morning before work.

So it's going to sound strange when I say that this is a great time of year to visit Massachusetts.

There's something that binds together all us crazy people who brave the elements up here when the snow won't stop and our backs are aching from shoveling the walks. We grew up sledding after school and building backyard ice rinks. When we learned to drive, our parents made us practice in two feet of snow so we'd learn what happened when we slammed on the brakes in the middle of a slide: "Scary, huh? You don't wanna do that again, do ya?" (My dad took it one step further and showed me how to operate the snow plow on his truck when I turned 16, "just in case.") We carried an extra set of clothes to elementary school to change after recess when our pants, mittens, socks, and hats were soaked through. When we played with the neighborhood kids, the parents would make us go outside for fresh air, no matter how much snow was on the ground; we'd only be allowed to come back inside for hot chocolate and marshmallows after our noses and ears were thoroughly pinked.

There's a shared experience that pulls together New Englanders when the temperatures drop. We're survivors. We have suffered blizzards in April that kill off the first crocuses daring to push through the soil. We have walked with the bundled masses to get to school, to work, to social engagements. We root on our sports teams with even more fervor when we have to scrape the snow off our seats. Subzero wind chills can't bring us down. It's part of our culture.

And you're going to miss out on witnessing that culture when you visit on a balmy weekend in June.

In case you're wondering, the above photo is from a particularly nasty February storm when I was in school at the University of Massachusetts. Walking to class in six inches of pure slush is an experience in and of itself.