As the season begins to change from fall to winter, the days grow shorter. The mornings have gotten a little bit chilly by Texas standards. Never did I think I would have to wear pants or long sleeves down here!
My perspective is unique and might sound a little crazy. This is because the college I transferred from was in Standish, Maine. Saint Joseph’s College sits on Lake Sebago, a large body of fresh water that freezes over in the arctic chill of the Maine winter.
Growing up in Massachusetts, I had seen a few tough winters before I went up to school for my freshman year at Saint Joseph’s. I didn’t think much about the weather when I made the decision to go to college up in Maine. The drive up took a mere two and a half hours, so I figured it couldn’t be all that different; I was wrong.
The first snow of my freshman year fell sometime shortly after Halloween. About two weeks later, the stuff was falling out of the sky like you see in a snow globe. I literally felt like it snowed twenty-four hours a day. Now, in fairness, I enjoy snow in moderation as much as anybody. Snowball fights, sledding, and many other great things come out of a nice snowstorm. Let me tell you first hand, the novelty wears off QUICKLY.
It got to the point where it was so cold and there was so much snow on the ground that you had to bundle up in layers upon layers just to make the journey to the dining hall for dinner. Darkness falls earlier in Texas now than it did in the summer. But darkness FALLS in Maine. In the dead of winter, at around 3:45 every afternoon, whipping snow and freezing wind mask the last few drops of sun before darkness ensues. It is depressing! I’m a generally happy person, and the lack of sunlight in Maine during the winter definitely affected my mood.
The final straw for me was when baseball season came around. I had braved a tough winter and was looking forward to getting out on the field with my teammates and welcoming spring in the right way. Mother nature thought otherwise. We would be up at dawn three days a week shoveling the snow off of our field! This continued for six straight weeks leading up to the season so that when the ground had finally begun to thaw, we could play our version of baseball on a mucky, wet field.
It was then I knew I had to make a change. I visited Texas in early October of the next year. When I got onto the plane at Portland International, it was snowing and I could see my breath. Not six hours later, I touched down in San Antonio to the tune of sweat dripping off of my brow. My mind had been made up before I ever saw Trinity or met any of the baseball coaches here. I wasn’t sure what I was going to think of the people, but I was sure that they couldn’t be bad enough to affect the way I felt about this incredible climate.
So here’s to my first winter in Texas. If my friends back home could see me now, shivering to the tune of fifty degrees!
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