More Thoughts on Winter
December 17th, 2005,I was listening to a call-in radio show the other day when a caller from Alaska mentioned that it was 18 degrees below zero there. The hosts of the show got pretty worked up about that and shouted a question that cold-climate residents often hear: “Why would anyone live there?” The caller, on the defensive, replied, “It’s the price we pay for our summers.”
I sympathized with the caller, because I’ve often been on the receiving end of such questions. The exchange stayed in my mind, and a few hours later I came up with a response that I would have liked to make to the “Why would anyone live there?” question. I would reply, “I think what you’re really saying with your question is that you can’t imagine living here yourself.” That turns the tables and doesn’t saddle the questionee with the assertion implied in the question—which is, “You must be crazy or stupid to be living there.”
People live in a climate like that of the Upper Midwest (or colder climates) for many reasons, of course, ranging from insanity and stupidity to habit, family ties, job opportunities, and, yes, preference. I can cite most of those reasons to explain why I live here. Even more than that, I’m happy to be here, and it’s not because I just endure the winter to experience our bug-filled, frequently hot summers. Winter has its joys as well as its inconveniences, and I accept it as one act in the theater of the seasons. And in the Upper Midwest that theater features lots of drama.
The drama of late has featured some overacting from Old Man Winter, who’s had a major role in this month of December. Most of the warm-climate folks would be especially glad that they’re not in the Upper Midwest. Temperatures in the early part of the month were below normal, getting down to five and ten degrees below zero (F) here in southern Minnesota. And now we’ve had a significant snowfall—eight inches or so on December 14 and 15. The snow is piled high along our sidewalk and patio. Other parts of the region, such as areas around Lake Superior, have gotten even more snow.
As adults we’re aware of the inconveniences of winter in a way that children are not. The cold, the snow, the ice—these make the tasks of daily life a little harder. Adults have to shovel the walks and drive the icy roads. We have to bundle children in winter clothes and freeze our fingers as we fasten them into car seats. For children, however, winter is mother nature’s way of providing new playing surfaces for games—sledding, skating, skiing, making snowballs and snowmen, and building snow forts. For the child winter is a time of joyful play.
It’s important to connect with that child’s joy in winter by playing outside. On Sunday, December 10, I did so by going cross-country skiing for the first time in three or four years. My skis, poles, and boots had waited patiently in the closets of the three different homes we had lived in during that time.
I found that I hadn’t forgotten much about skiing. The balance and rhythm came back to me, though I was a little unsteady from lack of practice. I made my way through a nearby park and onto the St. Olaf College campus, where I cut a new trail through a wooded area and then made my way onto established trails.
Gliding along in this natural setting, seeing the dried grasses standing in the snow and the brown trees with their branches interlaced across a cloudy sky, I was distinctly aware of a sense of joy. I felt connected to both the past and the present—to a younger self that had spent many hours in similar settings, and to an older self that simply felt fortunate to be alive and taking all this in, glad to be exerting himself and enjoying winter.
That occasional feeling of joy is one reason why I live here in a place where most people cannot imagine living themselves.