BLUEFIELD — Winter, how I love yet hate thee. I love the white, fluffy landscape of snow filled trees rising in the sky. It makes the two Virginias seem magical, like a fairy world of still and quiet.

From the kitchen window, it appears picturesque — until I am shaken out of my daydream by Old Man Winter’s cruel laugh. It might be pretty, but it is cold outside. Layers of clothes. A collection of winter accessories. Warm boots. It takes 30 minutes to assemble a defense against the wind chill. Standing in the living room — bundled from head to toe — I start to hate the ice and snow. Forget the icy roads, I start disliking winter before I even make it out the front door. I have a close and personal relationship with all my winter accessories — it’s a love/hate type of game. And here is why:



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Gloves: They seem to have a mind of their own, always disappearing when the National Weather Service issues a winter storm warning. I imagine a conspiracy. The right glove whispers to the left glove, which starts looking for a place to hide. Sometimes they jump out of my pocket in the middle of dark, snowy parking lots. Or they crawl out in other’s people vehicles. I assume the left glove likes his freedom more than his counterpart, the right glove. I never notice until I reach into my pocket and pull out one glove. I am used to the treatment; pulling the glove on my hand, I tuck my cold left hand in my pocket and ignore winter’s cruel joke. In a drawer in my closet, sits at least seven right hand gloves, all missing their partners. From gray to pink and blue stripes, they look like a bunch of mismatched orphans.



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Coat: I am stuck in my winter coat. The zipper is caught in the inside liner of the heavy, but puffy ski jacket. I pull the zipper down. Nothing happens. I try to move it up but it doesn’t budge. I start to get hot. With another urgent pull at the zipper, I think I might be stuck in my jacket until March. After 30 minutes, I wiggle free from the straight jacket and vow to never wear a winter coat again. Until the next day when I am shivering across the parking lot at work running to the front doors. I dislike winter coats, merely for the inconvenience of the attire. While I love the warmth, the coat bunches up in the car, hunching up around my shoulders. I feel like a marshmallow; I probably look like one in the driver seat with a coat rising up over my ears. When I go shopping, I want to leave the coat in the car, but then I realize how much I will miss its warmth on the return trip. So, I take it in the store and carry it around like a winter life preserver.



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Hats: I admit I don’t own a winter hat. But after the past few days of frigid cold temperatures, I have considered making the purchase. But I have a problem with hats — affectionately known as toboggans in the southern part of the U.S. — because they mess up my hair. And I am not talking about a few misplaced strands of hair, I am talking about a mess of static electricity that could power half of Bluefield. On occasions when I have worn a hat, I can feel a build up power. When I take off the offending item, a loud crack echoes and my hair salutes Old Man Winter. Is the worst hair day in history worth the mind numbing cold? My ears say yes. Health and weather experts explain a majority of heat is lost through the head. My solution: Find a hat made by the folks at Static Guard and I will consider the toboggan or beanie.

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Scarf: The only scarf in the drawer of winter charms is not exactly strong enough to defend against an icy rush of air. Instead, it would be more suited for fall, when the first few signs of a new season appear in the two Virginias. Not practical, it is really a fashion accessory, not a winter guard. A mad dash to the car or a front door, a scarf feels like a kite. But they always seem to lag behind, unraveling from my neck. Before long, it is dragging through the dirty slush leftover by mother nature. Or caught in the car door. I gave up on the hopes of keeping up with the scarf years ago. Between the coat and gloves, a scarf is one more thing to remove at the office or the store. I have noticed winter can make a woman lazy.

Imagine adults wearing snow suits, with coats, gloves, hat and scarfs. The combination —think the abominable snowman or snowwoman — would create a winter life jacket straight out of childhood. Instead of 30 minutes of preparation to go outside, it would take an hour. For now, the game begins with a hunt for matching gloves — or at least, a right and a left glove.

Jamie Parsell is the Lifestyle editor of the Daily Telegraph. Contact her at jparsell@bdtonline.com