Photograph: Winter:Time of the Hawk, Romare Bearden, 1985, collage on board. Accessed through ARTstor.
By: Marie Civitello, ’17, Contributing Writer
1. November: By day, you greet the first chilly notes of winter with excitement. By night, you dream of sleigh bells, jolly fat men and singing snowmen dancing under geysers of hot chocolate.
2. December: You frolic through the freshly fallen snow, clambering over gargantuan snowbanks as if they were the grassy Austrian hills of “The Sound of Music.” Merry Christmas, winter!
3. January: Smiling with effort at the towering grayish snow piles around campus, you attempt a half-hearted snow angel but realize this is impossible in four feet of snow.
4. February: Staring in bewilderment at the snow falling sideways outside the window, you count the number of days since you last saw the sun on your swollen, frostbitten finger nubs.
5. March: Snowed in for five days, you begin to worship an orange—the only object remotely resembling the star you have heard (apparently) exists at the center of our solar system.
6. April: Crazed and vitamin D deficient, you burst outside as soon as temperatures soar to 40 degrees. Wearing nothing but a Hawaiian shirt, you run through campus screaming in rabid glee.