It was the opening salvo of winter.
Challenging climatic conditions reminded us we’re not in charge.
I read William Faulkner’s book, “Absalom, Absalom!” which included a 1,288-word sentence. And he wasn’t even writing about a Minnesota winter.
Winters can be a long sentence.
Jonathan Coe’s 2001 novel, “The Rotters’ Club,” contains a 13,955-word sentence spanning 33 pages. I might read that book, but not that sentence.
To paraphrase Ernest Hemingway, winter comes “Gradually, and then suddenly.”
It’s impossible to avoid every bump in the road and winter is a big bump. Meteorological winter officially started on December 1, marking the beginning of the three coldest months of the year that extend through the end of February. I enjoy winter, but not all of it. It provides me with some free time as I don’t spend much time looking for shade or playing lawn darts. Winter makes playing lawn darts difficult – the darts don’t stick in the frozen ground, and my lucky dart gets lost in the snow until the spring thaw. The end of the lawn dart injury season creates space in the emergency room for those poor souls who are bad at shuffling their feet (the Minnesota shuffle) and fell on the ice.
The Old Farmer’s Almanac forecasts a mild and dry winter for Minnesota. The Farmers’ Almanac predicts a very cold, snowy winter for the Gopher State. I don’t hope for snow days off school, so I’m rooting for the Old Farmer’s Almanac to be spot on.
I love snow, but not in my shovel. Winter can pile it on. Some people thrive on shoveling and enjoy extolling their exploits in that arena, which gives the rest of us a chance to admire annoying people.
Shiver me timbers, I’ve used outhouses and porta-potties in below-zero weather. Cold temperatures cause me to be enthralled by indoor plumbing.
If you’ve lived in Minnesota for more than a couple of blizzards, you could give a TED Talk describing your miraculous survival during a winter storm. I remember a January, before cars had rump roasts (seat warmers), that was so cold, I had to get out the cables and jump start my advanced math textbook in order to finish my homework.
We used to talk about the wind chill factor a lot more than we do today. It’s caused by people saying, “Is it cold enough for you?” The frequent references to the wind chill were meant to make us feel more uncomfortable when we’re already feeling adequately uncomfortable. A north wind is cold, no matter which direction it blows from. What color is the wind? Blew. That joke was mic drop material when I was in the second grade. The house of my upbringing had its cracks. Because it was a failed fortress against a biting blast, I could tell which way the wind was blowing by which curtains were moving. The wind whistled through the trees surrounding that abode. It whistled the haunting theme from the movie “The Good, the Bad, the Ugly,“ and not the friendly theme from “The Andy Griffith Show.”
That was before all the roundabouts were built to give the wind places to turn around.
Please resist the urge to say things like, “I wish it could be winter all year.” That’s just asking for trouble. Old Man Winter takes such statements as challenges and will endeavor to break your spirit.
There are days when winter is too much of nothing, and there are days when winter is just too much.
Perhaps winter is best enjoyed by recording it now and then binge-watching it in hot weather.
I wish I’d made June my snow removal plan, but I didn’t. I did a crummy job of shoveling because I was struck with a paralyzing unwillingness to shovel snow, but I’m going to do it right now before I lose the light and my nerve.
Will you look at that. It’s dark already. I wish winter would lighten up. Oh, well. There’s little chance of all the snow melting by tomorrow.
I’d be delighted to shovel your walk, too. Let me know if you’d like me to do that for you.
I have a busy schedule, but I could do it in June.
Photo by Al Batt
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