I don’t know why I’m drawn to frigid destinations.
Maybe it comes from living in southeast Texas, where summers are hot, and winters are…less hot. Snowfall or ice storms in Houston are an approximately once every ten years kind of event, and even when it does fall, it’s negligible, and gone within a few hours. Snow has never been a normal part of life for me. Even the four years we resided in Delaware during my college years were practically free of wintry precipitation.
Whatever the reason might be, it seems that year after year, while others are escaping their snowbound cities in the dead of winter by heading south, and our friends and family are flocking to white, sandy beaches for summer vacation, I am always drawn north, far north.
Cold is beautiful. Cold brings out the inner child in me.
It’s not to say that I exclusively visit the northern latitudes, I love a good warm and sunny vacation as much as the next person. My heart, however, will always belong to the bitter winds that blow in the north.