When the first few snowflakes of a snowstorm fall, it can be the most beautiful sight. The streets, bushes and cars begin to turn white as the snow begins to accumulate. The ground becomes a white footprint-less sheet of new fresh snow temporarily eliminating the existence of man’s footsteps. All of these elements together create a pristine white wonderland that makes any winter lover long to make snow angels and have a snowball fight – but a few days later the pristine white wonderland becomes a sheet of black ice that reduces sidewalks and streets to ice rinks and cripples and paralyzes cars until they are stuck where they are parked skidding helplessly on the unforgiving sheet of ice where they lay.

When I was a child, I loved snow. I loved it because when the snow fell, I had nothing else to do but play in it. All I had to do was put on my snowsuit and go walking in a winter wonderland. Now that I am older, I have places to go, things to do and jobs to perform that require me to travel in it – and when I have to travel on streets that are now sheets of black ice – that can really sour my day.

In the last week, our car got stuck three times where we parked and it took a couple of our friends, a few shovels, a few pieces of cardboard – and endless amounts of anxiety and frustration to get it out. Granted when there is a snowstorm, almost everyone’s car gets stuck – but when it’s the third time in one week – it does wear down your patience.

So here we are, stuck with the remnants of the first storm of the century with another one on the way that is – according to the “reliable” weatherman who expertly predicted the last one – supposed to be worse than the first one, bringing at least four to six inches more snow to cover what we already have to deal with.

How I long for those endless summer nights.