Bless Your Heart, It's Snowing: A Southern Belle Finds the Thaw in New England

Well, hey there!

Last time we chatted, I left you with the revelation that New Englanders aren’t exactly falling over themselves to welcome you with a casserole, and that even the local Walmart is laid out all kinds of topsy-turvy. Since then, I’ve had more than one person ask me, with genuine curiosity, "Is it really that different up here?"

Honey, let me tell you. Yes. And no.

Down South, we do tend to be a little warmer right off the bat. It’s a culture of sweet tea and front-porch pleasantries. But don't you be fooled; the South is one big, beautiful, complicated clique, full of all the clichés you can imagine. You speak to a Southerner, and they’ll always respond in kind. You might get a "Bless your heart" or an "Oh my goodness," and if they're a truly gracious Southerner, you’ll never quite know if they're blessing you with kindness or with just a smidge of malice. It’s an art form, really.

Up here? The kindness is just… quieter. Which brings me to the great neighborhood mystery.

The Great Neighborhood Thaw

When we first pulled up to our townhouse, my heart soared. I saw signs of life! Bicycles, batting practice nets in garages and the likes. "Oh, goodie!" I thought. "The kids will have friends before school even starts!"

Y’all. We did not see another child outside for the entire summer. Not one. My three were like a pack of feral rabbits let loose on the greenspaces, riding their bikes, kicking balls, and hollering into the perfectly pleasant air, but no little neighbors came out to join the wild rumpus. We thought the summer was a gift from heaven—90 degrees felt like a perfect Southern spring day with those lovely breezes and zero humidity. But the neighborhood kids? They were nowhere to be found.

Then school started in late August, and finally, a thaw began. It wasn't until the snow in February that the doors to the other townhouses creaked open. Suddenly, tentative figures in snowsuits emerged, then another, and another. Now, our Saturdays are filled with the glorious sound of laughter and shrill screams as a whole pack of 6 to 8 kids runs wild outside. My Southern heart could just about burst seeing them all playing together.

It seems community, like the seasons here, just takes a little longer to warm up. I’m already planning my summertime ambassador mission: introducing the neighborhood to a proper Southern lemonade stand, fully stocked with fresh-squeezed lemonade and, of course, a big dispenser of authentic sweet tea. We’ll win them over yet.

Confession: This Southern Belle Loves Winter

Now for the biggest plot twist of the year. If you asked me what my favorite New England season has been so far, I’d shout it from the mountaintops: WINTER! (With the Fall a close contender)

Yes, you heard me right. This girl, raised on mild winters and the threat of an occasional ice storm, embraced every single snowflake and hollered for MORE! We saw our first flurries on Paulie’s birthday in October and the last beautiful dusting in April. (Mount Washington even got dumped on in May from a Nor’easter that blew through!)

Speaking of Nor’easters, that’s a word that struck fear in my heart. Down South, our weather boogeyman is the hurricane. I know the terror and damage a hurricane brings, so I was bracing for the same kind of apocalypse. When the forecast called for one, I battened down the hatches. But for us, nestled far enough inland, it was mostly just rain and a bit of bluster. Whew!

Honestly, folks, give me a foot of snow over rain any day of the week. Walking the dog in a downpour makes me feel like a drowned rat. But in the snow? I can bundle up in my snow bib, boots, jacket, and scarf and feel like I’m the star of my own movie. I try to embrace my inner Gene Kelly and go "Singin' in the Rain," but it just doesn't compare to the pure magic of walking in a winter wonderland.

Learning the Local Landscape

As summer approaches—I know my friends back home are already deep in the sweltering heat—we’re still enjoying weather that feels more like a perfect spring. I chaperoned my daughter Emily’s field trip to Canobie Lake Park this week, and it was just delightful. 90 degrees, and there I was, sitting comfortably and chatting with another mom while the kids rode everything in sight. Last summer at Santa’s Village, we just giggled every time we heard someone complain about how "hot" it was. Y’all, this ain’t hot!

I’m learning that, just like the weather, not all New Englanders are created equal, either. There’s a world of difference between folks from Massachusetts and those from New Hampshire, which I’m mostly learning from behind the wheel of my car (Lord, give me strength on these roadways!). I was also surprised by the political landscape. I suppose I envisioned a different picture, but I was fascinated by the rule here: after an election, all that campaign paraphernalia has to be cleared out of yards within 30 days or you get fined. What a genius idea! I can still picture signs from elections years past dotting the roads around Vicksburg. It’s just another one of those little quirks that makes this place so different.

Different, but good. This adventure is teaching us to find joy in unexpected places—in quiet neighbors who eventually come out to play, and in the surprising beauty of a snow-covered world.

Stay tuned for the summer adventures, y'all!