What winter gives back

IN MY EARLY 30S, I RELOCATED TO RURAL NEW HAMPSHIRE from Florida. It was supposed to be a joyful and exciting time: I was in love and had moved north with the intention of building a life with my husband. It was also stressful. The losses of friends and community hit me harder than I realized.

- ELIZABETH KELSEY

Compounding these changes was the loss of warmth and light. I was unprepared for a New Hampshire winter. Late that first autumn, after picking apples and watching the leaves turn maroon, I found myself overwhelmed by winter realities I hadn’t considered.

I wasn’t prepared for the ice. Before work, my Volvo was fully encrusted, the door frozen shut. Items left in the car for a few hours transformed, like the shampoo in my gym bag that became a solid block.

On other days, snow barricaded the front door. I didn’t consider how roads could become unnavigable because of layers of white. I’d never heard the ominous term black ice until I described to coworkers the way my fiancé and I spun like a dreidel on Route 120 on our commute home.