•••
Dear winter,
I am a huge fan. Come November, when the trees are barren and summer fun is long behind, you are what I look forward to. My skis wait at the ready, snowshoes are laced up for silent treks in snow-covered pines, and the much-anticipated first fat flakes set the scene. Who doesn't get a little excited for that first whopping blizzard, secretly hoping for a big snow day (though I guess those aren't quite as much fun with the advent of "e-learning" days). But still, it's fun to watch the scrolling list of school closures. And the absolute glee when it does snow on Christmas morning. Simply Minnesota perfection.
Come January, the fun still lingers. Plunging temperatures make for good bragging rights with family and friends in warmer climes (yup, minus 25!). And we can toss hot water in the air to see it turn to steam (OK, there are times you get a little boring). But then I look at my forlorn snowshoes and step it up, seeing how far I can go and how much my thighs can take. I inhale the quality time I have on your glorious carpet of thick snow and savor the serenity of my time with you.
As February starts to wind down, spring thoughts arise, and you start to be less interesting. I walk past my snowshoes trying to muster interest, and the ski paths just don't have the same allure. I feel like I am cheating on you a little bit, with my lustful thoughts of warmer days, throwing the windows wide open, kayaking, walking in shorts and slipping on my sandals.
Seriously, March 2023 was like Groundhog Day, and my enthusiasm for you completely tanked. Even I stopped cheering when it snowed and, like most everyone around me, began to wish you would go away. Sorry, winter, at this juncture no one really wants you around, and you don't seem to be getting the hint. Time's up. Spring's waiting. But I pinkie swear that next year we'll have lots of fun again.
Catherine A. Stoch, Fort Ripley, Minn.