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As the prairie winds whip the upper third of the big bluestem stalks on the native prairie outside my windows … for the lower two thirds are encapsulated in thigh-high drifts of wind-blown snow … I wonder of winter. Specifically I wonder if I like winter.
Notice I use “like” rather than “love.” Those two words are often interchanged as are “need” and “want.” People seem driven to pin you down over some object of desire, momentarily or not. Is it a “want” or a “need?” Such a nebulous argument! Similarly, you can like someone and not love them, just as normally as you can love but not necessarily like them.
So we look at winter. Our ecosystem probably needs winter more so than we want one as humans. With rare exceptions, and I’ve met folks who absolutely love winter, most of the desire for a cold winter day comes in the midst of a hot and humid summer day, especially if you’re portaging a canoe through a bog or wetland with halos of mosquitoes buzzing around. Even I’ve been known to shout: “Bring on winter!”
Some people love winter, the simplicity, the isolation, the pure beauty.
Now it’s here. We’re in the midst of an old fashioned, weather-defined kind of snow-bound winter. The day following Christmas I drove my adult son quickly across the prairie to his group home to beat a predicted blizzard. Later that afternoon the snows came, and with nightfall, the wind. Between the snow and wind I could make out the swinging bird feeders about sixty feet from my office window. Beyond that there remained a white curtain for most of  three days. On the fourth the skies cleared, yet there was too much snow to move. And my country road has one resident in a five mile stretch … me. Blading my road isn’t high on the priority list. On the fifth day a second blizzard arrived, and the skies didn’t clear until New Year’s day.
This is actually pure torture for an extrovert like myself. My dear friend, Mary, on the other hand was in absolute heaven an hour or so east of here. “I read three books,” she said, happily. I survived by talking with friends and family on social media, and watching televised sports and a movie or two. Yes, I also read. Sporadically. “Like” and certainly “love” of winter never crossed my mind.
Forays have been made into the prairies and  oak savannas searching for images.
While we rarely face such extremes for such an extended time, this weekend was of more winter. I had been accepted for an arts show at a winery about two hours east of here as part of a community winter celebration only to discover that my water lines to the upstairs bathroom had frozen overnight. After contacting the winery I spent most of the day working to free the lines. By evening the water was finally coursing through the lines. I could have taken off for the second of the two day event on Saturday and simply didn’t have the heart to go. One of my artist friends had given me a dire report on the previous day’s attendance. And, there would be no music on the second day. It was a lot of driving for such a short time. On icy, snow packed roads.
After all of this perhaps you may suspect I have a far different feeling toward winter, bordering on “dislike” or even “hate.” Perhaps in another month or two …
There are aspects of winter, though, I thoroughly love. A first snow, especially one that seems to magically drift from the heavens. Hoarfrosts that create a special winter wonderland of an ice encrusted universe. And there is the crystalline beauty of sun dogs, hanging two rainbow-ish arcs in a deep blue skies. Certainly I love the scent of a Winter Solstice bonfire, and of sitting on bales of straw with friends as the Milky Way drifts into deepened celestial depths.
Winter often offers as much beauty as challenge, physically as well as mentally.
I get the “time out” aspect. My ex as well as many others cherish this downtime to dream and plan their gardens, and in a few weeks will be pushing smooth seeds into dirt and activating grow lights. Those with passive solar winter greenhouses sit amongst cozy, warmed green plants munching on pinched leaves with smiles on their faces. Others, like my friends Greg Lockwood and Dan Angelo, are nursing along new wines, dipping hydrometers into carboys to measure alcohol content.
Despite all the cuddling with Joe Pye, my time hasn’t really gone to waste. So far this month I’ve read three books and am nearly through my fourth. And while I haven’t rinsed my carboy or toyed with a seed catalog, I have made forays into the nearby prairies and oak savannas looking for images. I’m holding up rather well mentally despite the weather-forced isolation.
There are aspects of winter, though, I thoroughly love. A first snow, especially one that seems to magically drift from the heavens.
One of the beauties of my life was in returning to the Midwest for an editorial position with a large publishing firm, the part of the country with four distinct season. Yes, sometimes I feel spring and autumn seem way too confined, and that summer drags long into hot Septembers. Winters often offer as much beauty as challenge … physically as well as mentally. Especially a long, drawn out winter.
I’ve learned that sometimes you can like a winter and not love it, and other times you can love it without liking it. Maybe winter is there for us to learn how to balance our souls, which we sometimes both want and need.
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Moments of a Season’s Passing
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Sandy on My Gnarly Old Friend
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