Sick of Winter by Abbie

Abbie J. Taylor 010This post by Abbie Johnson Taylor

Spring can come any time as far as I’m concerned. I’m tired of looking at snow, feeling arctic air on my face, and walking like a little old lady over ice to keep from ending up horizontal. I live on a side street built into a hill. In order to get anywhere on foot, I have to ascend and descend an incline. Sidewalks aren’t always shoveled, and the street is a mess because the city only bothers to plow main thoroughfares. This makes walking out of the question, so since I don’t drive because of my visual impairment, I must depend on the minibus and friends for transportation during this time of year.

Wyoming state welcome sign, along Interstate 8...


I could move to Florida to be closer to my brother, but it’s miserably hot and muggy during the summer, as I discovered last year when I attended his wedding in July. Besides, my house is paid for, and relocating would be a big hassle. I’ve grown attached to Sheridan, despite its idiosyncrasies, so I’ll stay put and complain about winter in Wyoming. The following poem from That’s Life illustrates how I feel about snow now that I’m older and more likely to break bones if I fall.




I knew it was coming,


but silent, unwelcome,


it crept into my awareness.


When I looked out the window,


It was everywhere, the sidewalk,


grass, street all covered in milky white.


Unexpected, unwanted, there it was.


I couldn’t make it go away.


Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author of:

Front Book Cover - We Shall OvercomeWe Shall Overcome


Cover: How to Build a Better Mousetrap by Abbie Johnson TaylorHow to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

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