Just like Jane Austen said, “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a woman who feels confident in her decision to stay in New England for another year, immediately questions that choice after having to stand in line, starting at 5:30am, in 30 degree weather, for 2 1/2 hours in order to get Winter tires put on her car”. I’m typing this from the tire store, by the way, and I can’t feel my toes or my left hand. I feel like an ice zombie and am in desperate need of coffee, like the kind of coffee craving that makes me feel like a Cathy comic. BUT, my early morning waiting meant that I was 6th in line for the first come first serve service when they opened. And that means I’ll be able to leave in a few hours, instead of being turned away like the 30 people who came in later than me and were told that they hadn’t gotten there early enough. I believe this is what the children are calling #ADULTING.

Someone told me recently that every season in Vermont makes you forget that any others exist. I’ve found this to be true. When the first green buds and flowers bloomed in Spring, it felt like I had been catapulted into an entirely different dimension. One where happiness and joy existed. Which was great. And then Summer came, and the snow tires were taken off, and all the Subaru’s in the state were required by law to attach kayaks to their roof-racks. And the air smelled like flowers and buzzed with bumblebees. And that transitioned into the Fall. And like clockwork, the leaves changed and one morning you woke up and every single hillside, in every single direction, became covered in leaves that looked to be licked by flames. And driving through the mountain passes, while the leaves rained down like embers, was enough to make you believe in a God. And then…..and then the leaves all say goodbye, and the branches are bare and everything turns to brown. And the skies turn darker. And more gray. And the wind nips at you and the heaters are turned on and you know there’s a change coming. And then, when you’re not expecting it, snow. And had this been your first year here, you would’ve been excited. You would have seen those giant, fluffy flakes, as magic sent directly from the heavens to help you realize that this place is full of wonder and beauty. You would feel like that IF this was your first season in Vermont. It is NOT your first season in Vermont. Nope. Instead you see those flakes as what they really are, an indicator that your lazy-ass has waited too long to get your tires switched over. Because that is a real thing no one tells you that you have to do when you live in New England.

Yes, on top of having to purchase actual winter clothes - not jackets or shoes you can “get by with” wearing. Like, your ass goes to LL Bean and Patagonia and gets shearling-lined nonslip snow boots. And orange vests that will protect you from hunters mistaking you for a Moose while you wander around the Vermont wilderness. And gloves. And jackets. And warm pajamas. No, on top of all that and the heating oil you must get before the weather turns and the prices skyrocket and your pipes freeze, and the de-icing spray and backup washer fluid for your car. On top of all of that, you also must have two sets of tires. A set for the 3 months of good weather and a set for the rest of the year. You have to have your “Normal” tires and then your “Winters”. And in my case, because I learned the hard way, winter tires with studs. Last year, I purchased non-studdded tires and after the first big snow, skidded down my hill and then had to abandon my car at the bottom and walk up my steep ass hill in the deep snow like I was in the fucking Donner party (only I couldn’t turn cannibal because I didnt know any humans last year). So, yeah, I learned that one must, if they want to survive the snow and cold, get tires with studs and get said tires switched over BEFORE the first snow.

So here I am - two hours waiting outside in 30 degree weather in the dark and now round the corner to my first hour sitting inside and waiting for the tires to be switched over. There are strangers bonding over their love of their dogs - speaking in hushed reverence over the pups of their past who changed their lives. And salty Vermont men who I KNOW were cold as fuck outside but pretended not to be, who are now sitting right by the heating vents and pounding the free hot coffee. And instead of fighting what’s about to come - the snow and the cold and the dark and the nights alone - I’m going to go into it with clear eyes. And though I’ll inevitably eat shit while shoveling my driveway and spew curses into the Vermont wind, and end up crying when I see how much it costs when my heating tank has to be refilled, and I’ll probably get a little weepy when I’m spending another holiday alone, at least, AT LEAST, I know whats coming. I know that while it’ll look like a fucking Hallmark snow globe, it’ll also be hard and you’ll feel ungrateful for not appreciating the beauty. And the nights will be long. And you’ll question a lot of things. But I also know, the fucking spring comes. The brown goes away and the flowers bloom. And I've got a secret weapon. Because I’m rolling into the winter with not only studded, way too expensive tires, but also a support system. A system that this year consists of more than just my dogs and Trader Joes wine. Yep, this year I’ve got actual acquaintances and some friends and coworkers and people on the street that say hello to me when I pass by. I’ve got people that depend on me at work. I’ve got friends who ask me around for drinks and chipmunks that need me to feed them. I am determined not to be Jack Nicholson and Vermont will not be my Overlook Hotel this year. I mean, not for the duration for the Winter at least.

This year I’m coming prepared.