You know what I love? The fact that Ithaca is Gorges. I love it. Whenever someone asks me where I go to school, and I say Ithaca, a common response is, “Oh, those winters must be brutal.”

I nod, acknowledge the rough, never ending winters, and then I add “but when it’s nice; oh boy, it is gorgeous!”

“Ithaca is Gorges,” they laugh, pleased that they know the reference. You’d think they just picked up on a vague Shakespeare analogy, the look they get.

Ithaca summers and spring—yes, we do eventually get spring—are worth the harsh and too-cold-to-function winters we endure. All the investments in winter jackets I made as a nervous first year student have come in handy, but the fact that I didn’t throw out my shorts in the middle of March when it seemed the sun would never shine again has also proved to be a valued decision.

“I’m never going to wear a dress again!” I cried to my friend on the phone during a storm in early 2010.

“Chill out, Lilly, yes you will,” she said.

“I’ll be here, and then camp, where I don’t wear dresses, and then here, for the rest of my life!”

Once I sobered from my stupor, she helped me realize that not only would I not bounce between camp and Ithaca for the rest of my life, but that there would be a time when Ithaca would not be covered with a white blanket.

So to any prospective students out there, or anyone who might visit Ithaca in February and vow to never return, please give it a second chance. I promise it’s worth it.