Sorry not sorry, I love this weather.
If you live in North America., you may have noticed a slight change in the temperature and precipitation across the continent as a large chunk of the polar vortex spun off and lurched drunkenly toward the equator like a bro at a frat party crashing toward the DJ station to loudly demand "Livin On a Prayer" for the umpteenth time (Jesus, there goes my metaphor...), changing a rainy, muddy winter into an instant Ice Age. Virtually everywhere in the lower 48 has been effected. The Deep South is in a deep freeze. Chicago is colder than most of Alaska. The roads are ice, the pipes are freezing, kids are being kept home from school simply because of the temperature.
And I love it.
It's a stark scene - the glaring, blinding white of the snow under a pale sun in a hard sky, making the shadows long and blue. The air is dry and shockingly cold; every breath is sharp in the throat, and the wind bites into my cheeks and wraps the cold around my legs. My beard and mustache crackles with frozen condensation. The wind whistles intermittently through the creaking power lines, while in the distance a crow sounds off, rowing between the black scrawl of the naked treetops. When this part of winter comes, I'd rather be in the woods, among the trees. There's something about winter the sun shining low between the trunks of white pines that gives me a feeling I can't describe, a quiet serenity tinged with longing, for what I don't know...even in the sunshine, the air is filled with tiny ice particles called "diamond dust", caused when moisture precipitates directly from the air.
My loved ones call me crazy - why would anyone go out of the house in this weather unless forced to? But I feel like I operate best at 10 below. I used to camp in this weather. I've figured out the best configuration of layers of coats, long underwear, socks and hats to create a bubble of cozy warmth - not cold enough to shiver, but not warm enough to sweat: perfect homeostasis. I could comfortably chop wood, build a fire, set up a tent, sleep comfortably all night, then wake up in the morning to take a hike. Maybe I'm bragging, but more I just wish I could communicate the beauty I see in the harsh winter and have someone understand.
I wish it could stay like this all winter (apparently it's like this in Minnesota), but this is Michigan...by next week we're looking at above-freezing temps: rainy, wet, dismal. I honestly think 40⁰ and raining is more hazardous than subzero and dry - getting wet will kill you a lot faster. And yeah, I get that a lot of people will be relieved with the rising temperatures - people who lost power or heat, and especially the unhoused. It's selfish to want this harsh weather for my own enjoyment. And yet there's something in me that wants to be uncomfortable, to experience something austere, to experience a slice of "Ice Age" existence. I think I'm definitely a capital-R Romantic, seeking the Sublime in nature; it might be anachronistic and silly, but it's a huge part of who I am.
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