Sunshine or Bust

Laughter does not have to come from a major source. It could be ... relatively minor.

It’s the second week of December, and I can already hear the birds singing, “Florida, here we come!” Their melodies grow even louder as they try to avoid the first measurable snowfall, and we affectionately call them the snowbirds. However, I’m not talking about the flocks of sparrows, finches, or cardinals that we often see flitting around bird feeders and squabbling with squirrels over the last sunflower seed. I’m referring to the older generation who have perfected the art of hibernation.

At the first sign of temperatures dropping below seventy degrees, seniors rush over the hill to pack their bags. Stuffing their suitcases with Hawaiian shirts, shorts, and swimsuits, they fuel up their motorhomes to head south for the winter—instinctively trading snow shovels for sunscreen. It’s as if they have a radar that activates before the first snowflake even touches the ground.

When winter threatens, follow the sun to a warmer climate.

Watching their southward migration is truly remarkable. Imagine a flock of savvy retirees, with bingo cards and margarita mix tucked under their wings and oversized sunglasses that resemble satellite dishes perched on their noses. They sit in the driver’s seats of motorhomes and Winnebagos, lined up bumper to bumper. It’s a mass exodus taking over the highway as they try to evade any approaching snow.

Upon reaching their destination, this stampede of sun-seekers swaps their winter wear for flip-flops and settles into lawn chairs for a martini on the rocks or shuffles off to play a game of shuffleboard. Never too old to party, they live the high life amidst white sands rather than suffering from cabin fever under a foot of snow. Being forgetful at their age might have its advantages; for the next six months, they can forget about winter, while we have to remember to put on our snow boots before leaving the house.

www.wintersetmadisonian.com

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