February in New Hampshire Made Me Rethink Every Life Choice I’ve Ever Made

Hi, I’m Garret, and I just moved to New Hampshire from Virginia. February wasted absolutely no time showing me who’s boss.

Not one person pulled me aside and said, “Hey… just so you know, February here isn’t winter, it’s a psychological endurance test.”

In all honesty, my new co-workers did reassure me that this is the coldest winter in years. Sure… Sure… I don’t believe it. This is not OK. Not yet anyway. I’m going to be frozen until May.

This isn’t a cute, Hallmark-movie winter like I envisioned downtown Dover or Portsmouth to be. No. Not at all. I’ve been here for two weeks, and the cold air makes my face hurt.

When the sun comes out, it’s supposed to warm things up. Noooooo. It’s like a decoration. No warmth, no comfort, no emotional support. I don’t want to touch the steering wheel in my truck. I never wore gloves. I do now, and I’m wearing more layers than I ever have.

And the snow, listen, it’s gorgeous, for about ten minutes.

Then it turns gray, crunchy, and somehow ends up inside your boots no matter what you do. It snowed the other day, and my co-worker Sarah said we were only going to get a dusting. I woke up the next morning to 6 inches of snow covering my truck, and the maintenance guy at the hotel where I’m staying was already out with the snowblower. I brushed the snow off my truck, and most of it went in my boots. LOL.

I just sigh… and keep walking like this is my personality now.

But here’s the thing I’m learning about February in New Hampshire: you don’t fight it. You lean in.

I’m told that you can go to North Conway and pretend you’re inside a snow globe. You drive through the White Mountains like you’re auditioning for a Subaru commercial. You find yourself in Portsmouth, sitting by a fireplace with chowder, convincing yourself this was always the plan. I’m not so sure yet. I haven’t bought in yet, but I’m trying.

You escape to Jackson Village, book something cozy, and romanticize winter like you’re built for this life. Because apparently, the secret to surviving February here isn’t warmth, it’s vibes.

READ MORE: New England Winter Survival: 10 Things You Need in Your Car

I was at Tendercrop getting lunch, and I struck up a conversation with the cashier and introduced myself. She said New Hampshire doesn’t ask if you’re ready for winter. It simply hands you a flannel, teaches you patience, and says, “Adapt.”

Am I freezing? Yes. Am I questioning my life choices? Also yes.

But somewhere between the piles and piles of snow along the streets, the ice-cycles on the side of the buildings, and the realization that winter here is a whole personality… I get it now.
Sure... I'll admit that it’s picturesque. I'm still cold and layered up, but I’m officially here now.