Kirksville is a very eclectic town stashed away in the Northeast corner of Missouri. For some reason, Midwestern intellects stumbled upon this place and built both a medical school and liberal arts university, or as they're publicly known: AT Still and Truman State University. For an outsider looking in, this town is a quaint representation of Midwestern hospitality. As a soon to be graduating senior from Truman, I would mostly agree with that statement. There is one major flaw to this tiny town in the middle of nowhere. The weather here sucks.

First, let me start with the wind. I've nicknamed Kirksville "Chicago's Hillbilly cousin" simply because of its torrential winds. It doesn't matter if it's the middle of January, when the wind is whipping snow into your face, helping little icicles form on your outer extremities or if it's in the middle of July, when the wind is just giving you dry whiplash against the summer's humidity. It's always windy.

Then there's the lack of actual seasonal progression. Most places have four seasons: winter, spring, summer and fall. Kirksville has two: the point where the heat shows up and occasionally turns into our own Midwestern monsoon season and the Kirksvillian tundra. The heat lasts from about August to early October, if we're lucky; then the tundra starts to set in. There's a mockingly nice week or two that usually shows up in between as a transition. That's when all the school's promotional fall photos are taken because Truman's campus is pretty much flawless during that short blimp of time. Then the tundra hits.

Unlike most places, where there's a gradual progression into winter, Kirksville hits you full force, without warning, like a slap in the face. You don't go without your weather app when you live here because there's no telling if you'll need a light jacket or an Arctic parka from one day to the next. The only plus side to this time of year is Alpaca Guy with his trundle of sweaters, gloves, hats and leg warmers. Those sweaters are pricey, but they're the warmest piece of clothing you're ever going to own.

You learn pretty early on that it's best to suck it up during the fall semester and save your best heavy winter coat until we return in January. You don't want your body to get used to its warmth and perfection while the weather is still decently mild. However, no one ever seems to warn the freshman of this survival tactic. It's like a rite of passage, that first fall semester, when all of the upperclassmen laugh to themselves as they see freshman bundled up in all of their winter apparel, thinking this is the worst there is. That it couldn't possibly get colder than this. You kind of feel bad for not warning them, but then again, it builds character.

You also learn the quickest routes through the campus buildings so you can avoid the bone-chilling slurry of wind, ice and snow that is most likely outside. If that doesn't work, you'll still brave it out into the cold. You could always just not go to class at all, but that's not typically how Truman students roll.

Then there's a single week that shows up somewhere around late March and early April, when a glimmer of spring shows up. You've lost all hope that you'll ever see the sun again, but then it peeks its head out for a few days. It's a beautiful time where everyone—and I mean everyone—comes out onto the Quad. People play frisbee, walk their dogs, hang out on hammocks or just lie on the still muddy grass because they're just so happy winter is over. It's usually only about about 40 degrees outside but everybody's rocking their shorts and T-shirts because our bodies have become accustomed to negative degree weather. Winter comes back after that, to mock us one last time.

In the last few weeks of the semester, when everyone is all crammed inside studying for finals, spring hits Kirksville full force. The sudden change in climate usually makes you sick with allergies or gives you the worst cold symptoms of your life. But you power through because you're a Truman student and you know the school year's almost over. You know that soon you'll be back in your hometown where the weather doesn't change at the drop of a hat and the wind isn't strong enough to pick up a small child (no proof that this has actually happened, but I wouldn't be surprised if it could).

After all is said and done, we all know that while the weather sucks here. It's one of the many facets of Kirksville that brings all past and present Truman students closer together.