How I finally became convinced that I do indeed live in New England

There have been lighthouses, lobsters, a moose, and talk of a non-white winter being unthinkable. But without a real good snowy cold blustering through here, I was starting to become skeptical about the true destination our move brought us too. We headed home for Christmas/New Years, home being both Texas and California, only to disappoint our families due to our lack of grand tales of blizzards and ice. I was comfortable heading out for walks daily, things felt familiar like the sound of the woods back home on my grandfather's ranch growing up, and all these claims that us wimpy California kids couldn't take it sure weren't slowing us down.


But on the morning after our return, as soon as I woke up, Manny drew my attention to the window just above our heads, where a beautiful snow was softly falling and beginning to pile up on the tree just outside our bedroom. In the past few days, several other events have taken place that have convinced me that I may, indeed, be living in New England, despite months of skepticism. I dunno though, each of these observations are actually firsts for me. Help me out Lobsters, does it sound convincing? Do I really live in New England now?


Proof:


1) I witnessed a man [turned out to be a friend even] commuting to and from work via cross-country skis


2) I pulled over off the freeway to attend to a crying baby and noticed ice skaters on a pond through the trees


3) In a short three hour drive, we crossed state lines multiple times [in most of our Texas or California drives, we were able to drive over ten hours without seeing another state]


Just off the highway, we saw a handful of men in the middle of a lake, ice fishing


4) As the sun set, I saw a warm light on a front porch of a house on top of a snowy hill


5) Trees once bursting with color are now bare, emerging forth from snowy embankments


6) The temperature reading for the town we live in read negative 8 this weekend.