Hurricanes I can handle. We get a weeks, sometimes several weeks, warning. They are unpredictable in their specific track but localized. Even a direct hit, been there - done that, is a day of preliminaries, 24 hours of mauling, a couple hours of life sliding sideways ... then it is passed. Hurricane season is six months long but the actual event is coming, here, and gone. It isn't like winter, inevitable, unavoidable, ever present, and months long.

Hurricanes are like car crashes. They happen. Here in lurid Technicolor, then gone. You live through them, make it and pick up the pieces, or don't.

Winter in northern climates is a slow grind, a test of endurance, patience, sanity. Cold, wet, miserable, and punctuated by blizzards, and just enough warmth to keep the frigidity from becoming routine. A grind. A grind that wears you down and returns every year. A stalking beast that never goes away for long. An animal that always eventually wins.

So I moved south. Family has history down here. Winter still makes a showing but it is a bit milder, having feasted on the souls of Yankees it is less voracious, and after a few days there is enough warmth to feel my bones warm up. It is still a slap in the face, but it doesn't take up residence; find a job, raise kids, and get into local politics.

This winter has been harsh, as such things go round here. It isn't over yet but I think it is one of the shorter, seven week winters. What made this one bad was the frequency of the hard freezes. At least a half-dozen bitter cold fronts and most of them had three very cold nights in a row. But, even then, mercifully, kind of like being turned into a newt, it gets better. And it feels like we are on the up swing. Bring the heat baby. A coconut breeze is coming and I can't wait.