Is any good old straw chewin', John Deere hat wearin', bib overauled, dung booted Iowan really surprised by this weather? Yet many of the sophisticated, wine sipping, aristocratic city dwellers I talked to are in disbelief. It's as if the last snowfall of winter happens in the much touted but mythical blizzard of the Girl's State Basketball Tournament. Don't get me wrong, I'm as anxious as any one to see the rebirth of nature in spring but I couldn't be more pleased to welcome this snow the week of the mislabeled Spring Break (should be Winter Escape Week). This expands the pleasure of those that left us behind to further rub salt in our wounds as to their warm getaways. Social media will be filled with reminders of their delights and their subliminal hopes of our envy and suffering. Who is really the more magnanimous, the runaways or those that endure the endless taunting so as to amplify the joy of those who have gone. This morning, I raise my shovel in a proud salute to all who weather the storm and endure all that Iowa and Mother Nature brings.
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