Well, everybody, winter is upon us. A time where the universe seems covered in a serene, white blanket of comfort. It's soft to the touch, it's fun to mess around in, and it's almost-calming to watch as it falls outside of your window. I think it's amazing. I mean, frozen water falling in individually stunning flakes from the sky that seemingly flutter to the ground? Who wouldn't want to be surrounded by that? Snow on Commonwealth Avenue where the busy and bustling street falls silent for more than a second, and the world almost seems at peace? Even better.

But, this is my least favorite time of the year.

I was a summer baby, born into a world of flowers and sunshine. I'm always cold. I love the South's weather. AKA all signs point to snow and I have never been friends. Everything's so much more difficult than it ever was before. My very first memory of a snow storm is that my mom's mini van got stuck at the bottom of our street on the way back from my uncle's, and we had to walk home. Later on, a different mini-van would go on to get stuck in my driveway (as in pulling out of my driveway to go somewhere, NOT coming back from something) and I had to miss a school event. These two experiences would teach me two things: snow makes driving difficult and my mom should stop buying mini-vans (which she eventually did).

Being a Mass gal, I've seen hundreds of storms and probably a few Nor-easters, but the first time I truly felt a snow-pocalypse was on a dance trip to Germany. It snowed for 6 days and 5 nights, non-stop. They carved a hole in our hotel walkway to exit out of the building. By the time we left, the mountain piled up to my small, sixth grade hips. But the most traumatizing moment? It ruined my Ugg Boots, so I had to leave them in the closet. RIP my size 6 chocolate Uggs. Dec 2009 - Dec 2010. Cause of death: Water damage.

Sure, snow has been the background of many fun stories. Having a snowball fight outside of our hotel in Riesa that resulted in us getting yelled at by the hotel manager. Standing in it (and its accomplices: rain and hail) watching the Patriots parade down Boylston Street after winning Super Bowl LI (COMEBACK NATION BABY). Being stuck at Logan Airport for 5 hours waiting to spend New Years in New Orleans. Not having a full week of school between Christmas break and March during my sophomore year. My fair share of (if I must say, award-deserving) snow people and drinking hot chocolate with my siblings after waking up at 11 on a Tuesday. All of these memories are supplemented by the snow, but weren't necessary caused by it.

I'm sure many of my Massachusetts friends will question my reasoning behind this. I mean, why go to school in Boston when you already know you hate the weather? First of all, Boston's an amazing place to live. The history, the culture, the quiet spots and loud ones alike -- they all create an irreplaceable emotion that's hard to deceive. Regarding the weather, it's really quite simple. Think of summer -- the wind in your hair, your windows down, and eating ice cream on the boardwalk of your favorite beach. And then think of winter -- heavy snowfall, needing 3-4 layers, and feeling numb from head to toe. My heart belongs to the summer, and always will.