Yesterday was the Winter Solstice.
And there is no snow accumulation in the Twin Cities. And the forecast for New Year’s Day is 40 degrees. I’m still running errands in my favorite hoodie and a scarf, have yet to break out a serious coat, and I can actually run around in cute (rather than functional) boots without worrying about breaking my ankle on the ice or getting them all full of salt stains.
This makes me so happy I could cry.
It’s no secret that I loathe winter in Minnesota. I know, I’m the idiot who moved up here, so it’s my own fault, but I’ve been here for over 15 years now, so I am entitled to complain. It’s not as if I grew up in Florida. I really can take a bit of snow and cold. It’s the duration of it that wears on me. A snowstorm this week dumped 12-18 inches of snow in Kansas, which is a decent snowfall even by northern standards. But that snow will probably be gone by mid-January, if not sooner. When it snows here, it’s here to stay. That’s something I’ve never grown accustomed to.
Last year we had snow on the ground from mid-November through mid-March. And temps below zero starting in December. Just because I haven’t had to deal with six weeks of “pre-winter,” means I feel like I have beaten this thing, and won’t be ready to wrap a snow shovel around the mailbox by March. Two months of hibernation I can handle. Five? Not unless you want to see me stabbing things with icicles.
Winter. It’s on, bitch.
© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2011