What Minnesotans lose when a winter is this warm

We are choosing the convenience of dull weather over winter magic.

January 5, 2024 at 3:00PM
Kim Hsieh enjoyed the weather at Como Lake in St. Paul in late December. “This is such a glorious day … who wouldn’t want this?” she said. (Aaron Lavinsky, Star Tribune/The Minnesota Star Tribune)

I haven't been griping about this kinder, gentler Minnesota winter. Should I be?

With weather this uneventful, driving to work on dry roads is a breeze. I can leave the house without squeezing into moon boots. No need for pre-blizzard runs to Costco to compete for a parking space and stock up on milk. On the contrary, this winter has been filled with pleasant walks and shacket-friendly afternoons. I'm not even sure where my ice scraper is.

It's, dare I say, easy. It's like living in Kansas City.

That's the analogy that Sven Sundgaard came up with when he was trying to pinpoint a place in the world whose average temperatures and snowfalls resembled the historic month we just concluded. Christmas was not white or brown, but green, with highs in the 50s. It was the warmest December on record for the Twin Cities and Minnesota at large.

"This is what 12 degrees above average looks like — no snow, really warm temperatures," said Sundgaard, a meteorologist for Bring Me the News and MPR News. "This is what you'd expect in a normal Kansas City December."

Our record-busting December was the product of both climate change and the natural phenomenon of El Niño, conditions in the Pacific Ocean that have trapped frigid air far to our north. It fits into a larger pattern of milder Decembers and was an inevitability in our warming planet, Sundgaard contends.

I'll grant that Kansas City is home to some memorable barbecue and Taylor Swift's boyfriend, but it's not what we should aspire to be. Some of us have been so disarmed by the benevolent breeze on our faces that we've forgotten the marvels of a true Minnesota winter. It's like we've traded that magic — because it's accompanied by hardship — for convenience.

Resilience to the extremes defines us as a people. It's part of our fabric and identity.

"We think of ourselves as a hardy, harsh place, and we kind of like it that way," said Sundgaard. "I liken the Minnesotan/Scandinavian attitude toward winter as very puritan: If it feels good, it must be bad for you, and if it feels bad, it must be good for you. Without a real winter in Minnesota, we lose part of our character and soul. I don't want to be Iowa."

Meteorologist Sven Sundgaard, pictured near a retreating glacier on the Norwegian archipelago of Svalbard, said trips to the Arctic in recent years to study climate change have made him change his mind-set about winter and cold. (The Minnesota Star Tribune)

Sundgaard said he became more aggressively pro-cold in the past several years on trips to the Arctic and seeing firsthand the effects of climate change, from receding glaciers to the disappearing denning sites for polar bear moms. When he thinks about the wildlife that we embrace in Minnesota, it's the fish that thrive in cold, deep waters. It's the moose that may not stick around by the end of the century because of retreating habitat and exploding winter tick populations.

That message of environmental stewardship is shared by Claire Wilson, executive director of the Loppet Foundation. She agrees that winters are necessary for us as humans.

"Spiritually, this is terrible. We need snow," she said.

Wilson's organization grooms city ski trails in Minneapolis and is set to co-host the 2024 World Cup at Theodore Wirth Regional Park in February. Enthusiasm for the international event among ski diehards is at fever-pitch, with Afton native and three-time Olympic medalist Jessie Diggins and her teammates preparing to race in the first World Cup event to be held on U.S. soil in two decades.

Unfortunately, it's been a lousy season for snow — even the kind made by machines. There just haven't been enough stretches of freezing temperatures to create a robust trail system needed for winter recreation, let alone a World Cup race. A trail built on Thanksgiving was washed out by Christmas rains.

"It's a race against time now," Wilson said.

She's confident that the World Cup will go on, but says there are everyday moments that Minnesotans are being denied. It's affecting her organization's financials — fewer people signing up for ski lessons, fewer families hitting the snow tubing hill. For many, traditional winter activities have become out of sight, out of mind.

"We have lots of kids who usually get on the snow who aren't getting out," she said. "For the adults, it's impacting our ability to delight in winter."

You don't have to be a cold-weather evangelist to acknowledge what we're missing out on: children building snow forts or skating on neighborhood ice rinks. Sledding and s'mores and snow angels. The kind of wonder of winter that comes only when you're on a frozen lake all by yourself, and you notice that the trees surrounding the shoreline have been sugar-dusted with hoarfrost.

That is an exquisite reward for not pulling the covers over your head, for strapping on your snow boots, and for stepping into the cold even if it stings your lungs. While January is shaping to feel much more typical than December, weather experts predict a shorter, duller winter than what we're used to.

So let Kansas City boast about their Super Bowl victories and world-famous ribs. If Minnesotans can't brag about our winters, we'll just have to talk up our Vikings.

Oh, never mind.

Correction: An earlier version of this column misspelled the first name of Jessie Diggins.
about the writer

about the writer

Laura Yuen

Columnist

Laura Yuen, a Star Tribune features columnist, writes opinion as well as reported pieces exploring parenting, gender, family and relationships, with special attention on women and underrepresented communities. With an eye for the human tales, she looks for the deeper resonance of a story, to humanize it, and make it universal.

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