File this under corny if you like. But I'm old. You can tell because I use words like corny. But what saves me from hopeless age and cynicism this time of year is my three and a half year old. Through her, I'm able to remember what Winter used to mean. If you're feeling down about the impending onset of Winter coming in a few hours, go find some children and hope it snows.

My daughter… her name is Her Majesty… sticks her tongue out to catch snowflakes. Admit it– you did that once, too. How you feel about the possibility of owning a Porsche, she feels about owning a new pair of boots. Having never proved for herself that the grass isn't gone for good under the snow, she digs down to see if it's there. She makes snow angels. She'll watch falling snow through the window for minutes on end, and for a toddler, that's like forever.

Snow is a massive mystical natural event of profound wonderment if you let yourself think about it. It's white; it falls slow; it accumulates; its moldable, edible (sort of), magical.

Welcome Winter. Children everywhere of all ages thank you again for dropping in. 

Shania Twain covered her midriff

Lawyers have their hands in their own pockets.

1. They hardly ever turn blue.

2. Add your favorite sno-cone flavor for the tasty treat of your choice.

3. They can get bigger when it snows which is the opposite of the usual shrinkage when things get cold.

4. White matches everything.

5. The biggest ones win.

Winter takes a lot of hostages. It kills a few. It's the Bell Curve thing. It's not named after Dr. Bell, of course. It was invented by this guy, Carl Friedrich Gauss. But if you ask me, it could have been named in honor of the bells in the tall white steeples of New England churches that each autumn and winter ring for the ones who won't be here in Spring. But are they gone, really?

Buds are formed already on my forsythia bushes, ready for spring.

Winter reminds us that life is short. When I lived and worked in California it seemed to me everyone lived and worked as if life went on forever. In New England, thanks to Winter, we're reminded annually that time is running out.

This is another accident of winter that is not the season's fault. Yo, Bubba, if you don't know how thick the ice needs to be to support your F150, stick to the roads or better yet, stay home? In a moment, I'll give you ice thickness guidelines from Sheriff Bud Olson and the Carver County Sheriff's Office. He and they ought to know… they're in Minnesota which is an Indian word meaning, "Men do damn fool things."  But first, here's my question: Once this happens way out there on Lake Ohschit, which was named after an Indian word meaning "Men do damn fool things," how does anyone get the vehicle back to safety? Suggestions anyone?

Now as promised: In addition to a general review of obvious winter driving concepts via the link above, Sheriff Bud says this about ice thickness:

— Generic rules for ice:

4 inches of new, clear ice is the minimum thickness for travel on foot.

5 inches of new, clear ice is minimum for snowmobiles and ATVs

8-12 inches of new, clear ice is minimum for cars and small trucks

Avoid driving on ice if possible.

My wife planned our wedding date relying exclusively on the weather forecast in The Farmers' Almanac. They said the weather would be gorgeous. It was. Since then for every major household event in which weather could be a factor, the Almanac has been the final go-to authority. It's been right every time. Coincidence? Maybe.

Here's a link to a great blog. It is written principally it seems by Peter Geiger, Editor, Farmers' Almanac. The site doesn't offer permalinks, but if you can get to the post entitled Weather Predictions - A Battle of Epic Proportions it is a great read. For example, Geiger writes: This morning I was asked about acorns - one of my 20 Signs of a hard Winter. His answer actually isn't very nutty.

Meanwhile, the Almanac is calling for a cold winter. The National Weather Service says it will be mild. I say it'll be cool one way or the other no matter what.

When topics like this come up in the office, uber blogger and PR wunderkind Dave Cote looks at us like he's not entirely sure whether we old timers are talking about 1978 or 1888. He's convinced we're that old. In 1978 I think David was comfortably seated in the back of that gleam in his momma's eye.

If you weren't around these parts back then, here's a link to Wikipedia's overview of the storm. We got 55 inches of snow in about three days. I seem to recall everyone stayed home from work for a week and our Governor here in Massachusetts showed up on TV often wearing a sweater.

I lived in East Cambridge. Fights broke out among neighbors over where to throw the snow. We took a sled to the grocery store. Where were you? If you have a particularly good Blizzard of '78 story to tell, submit it here. The best one(s) will be eligible for a prize. What's the prize? We bought a box of Swiss Miss for the winter and winning submissions will receive one of the packets in the box for as long as supplies last.

…I actually feel like listening to Rush Limbaugh. That's how desperate I am for hot air.