Yes, Virginia (and Maryland), there IS life after a snowstorm!

We have at last returned from our trip to the Great White North. Our plane to central Illinois landed in a blizzard, although in typical, stoic Midwestern fashion, the pilot never mentioned a word about blizzards. He also never mentioned, until after landing, that the plane had hit two birds during the flight. An unfortunate incident, but Midwestern birds are pretty stoic about such things. 

In contrast, landing in a blizzard in Maryland (legal definition: greater than .002 inches of snow) would never have been allowed. Planes would have been diverted to the nearest safe airport, perhaps Los Angeles, and passengers informed that to reach their destination they would have to hoof it back. "No one's getting in by air, rail, or road," officials from Maryland would say. "Not for a couple of months at least." 

We were supposed to meet friends for lunch after we landed, but after inching along in our rental car in the blinding snow and wind for some time, we called to cancel. We were exhausted from our efforts, and we hadn't even left the airport parking lot yet. 

The snow doggedly followed us through Illinois and Michigan. One morning in MI we woke  up to about six inches of snow (equivalent in Maryland snow: 60 inches). We got up, got dressed, got in the car -- and drove down a perfectly clean expressway. This is another situation that does not happen in Maryland. When we get that much snow here, the entire state just sinks into the earth, never to rise again until the following spring. 

We also couldn't help but notice that no matter where we drove in Michigan, the little compass in our rental car pointed in a single direction the entire time we were on one road. If we started out driving north on Road X, we continued to go north until such time as we turned off Road X onto Road Y, at which point we went due east until we turned off Road Y, etc. The same compass here in Maryland would appear to have a personality disorder: "West -- no, wait, north...uh, south-west? Now north-south..." In Michigan, you could turn a few right turns and end up exactly where you started. In Maryland, you could make a few right turns and end up in: Nome, Alaska. 

On the other hand, we only own heavy winter outerwear and boots for our travels to the Midwest. We once visited in January without such gear because it had been 60 degrees at home before we left. Fortunately our relatives treated our foolishness with characteristic gentle humor: "It's January and you're wearing windbreakers. Are you insane?"

Ah, winter. What brings families together. Unless they have to drive on Maryland roads ("East? How did we end up going east? I thought we were going north...").