Idylls of Winter

Glimpses of Minnesota

1. Dessert.

It is -5 degrees F. Yet we all decided to go out for ice cream.

The ice cream place was open. There was a line.

2. 25 February: Go Outside

E called me up from the university library to say, "You've GOT to go outside. It's warm. I'm walking around without a hat or gloves!"

I ran right out & took a long walk. It was amazing. Sunny! Warm! Suddenly: tricycles & inhabited tree-houses. Rabbits frolicked. Dozens of other people were outside with their kids & dogs, waving & shoveling slush. College girls mobbed along in shorts, Uggs & hoodies, singing. Beaming neighbors stopped to chat, full of bonhomie & the idylls of Winter, none of them with hats. Oh, wonderful world!

A February heat wave.

It was 37 degrees. There is not one leaf, not one blossom.

It's also the month of Muharram right now. This very day last year, I was sweltering in Jakarta, hearing choruses of muezzins lament the martyrdom of Hussein. I can't believe it's been a year.

3. House of the Seven Nymphets.

It’s 7pm and dark, 14 degrees. We’re going out. Underneath our hats, mufflers, sweaters, coats & gloves, we're dressed up. And under THAT, we're wearing long underwear. My invisible long-johns, in a vain effort at unschlumping the season, have nice lacey cuffs. Which are necessarily tucked into my pilled wool hiking socks.

The moment we step from the house, however, we see that our car is parked in. There’s a giant gold SUV right behind it & a second giant gold SUV right next to it. Our next door neighbor girls, in the House of the Seven Nymphets, have bricked us in with gold. Students.

Before we even reach the car, however (waddling a little for the ice), a blond student comes streaking out of the house, all apologies, with the keys in her hand. “My friends TOLD me not to park here, sorry!”

So this was fine. She moved the car.

Thing is, this kid is wearing nothing but a bath towel. A golden towel & fuzzy backless gold slippers. That’s all. She bounded outside in 14 degrees to move the car in a bath towel. She didn’t even shiver.

THAT is Minnesota nice. (And Minnesota tough.)

4. Running in February

It’s 12 degrees but sunny. I stretch bungee & wire crampons over my beat-up runners. I'm wearing thick wool socks. This is a life or death event, running in winter. The sidewalks are unevenly shoveled: icy, cruddy, puddled or dry. If you don’t keep your eyes down & your ankles nimble, you will die a foolish death.

Also, if you forget the dog’s gentle-leader, any lunge for a mis-hibernating squirrel could result in a far more acrobatic & embarrassing demise. I wear gloves, a balaclava & sunglasses: because the sun is blinding off the snow. I sweat & freeze at the same time. My eyes & nose run. My thumbs & thighs go numb. My shoulders nudge my ears with shivering tension, yet I am hot.

By March, I have quit. I do sit-ups in my office.

5. 10 March: Put your gloves away

It’s heated up to a balmy 27 today with promises of 40 this week. The horrible lawn is showing through the snow like a dirty slip.

Spring is on our minds, though I (alone) am in no hurry. Winter is good writing weather. A few hearty rabbits have returned. People are giving up on hats & gloves en masse, but only because we feel it’s time to move on, not because it’s any warmer, as if it’s our collective rejection of winter clothing that actually brings the sun.

Any week now: crocuses.