Fat, fluffy flakes falling lethargically from the sky as they do in a snow-globe. A roaring fireplace. Hot chocolate with plush marshmallows. Plates laden with honey-baked ham, mashed potatoes with creamed corn, stuffing, gobs of gravy and cranberry sauce. Chocolate pie, cordial cherries, warm apple cider.
These are the clich?s of winter that make me greet the coming season like a long-lost friend. I might say, “Man, you know it’s been almost a year?” Time flies. Season follows season. A semester winds down, a year winds down. It’s winter.
Reality hits. Cold feet that just won’t get warm. Muddy slush. Wind that threatens to knock you off your feet – that is, if it doesn’t freeze your snot in your nose and suffocate you first. Layers upon layers of petrified precipitation on your car. You peel the layers of ice off with a poorly designed instrument while hoping you put on enough layers of clothing to keep you safe from the aforementioned wind.
Yup, it’s winter all right.
Now, for those newcomers who are either from a completely different biome with palm trees and sandy beaches (lucky bums), and even for those accustomed to winters a bit milder than the ones here in Maine, these images may come as a surprise.
I’ve been asked: “Does it really get below zero there?” You better believe it. Every February I think to myself: “I wish we’d just have one forty-degree day.”
Winter’s long, it’s cold, it’s ridden with ice and barren fields and many other unpleasant things.
But somehow we all find ourselves living here.
What in the world would make us continue to subject ourselves to these traumatic, bitter winters? Sledding, skiing. The sight of an untouched snowfall glistening off pine trees in early morning. The culinary delights listed above. Why, it’s almost worth being cold just for the chance of warming up again.
Even if it’s cold outside, there is warmth in humanity during winter. I’ve never been refused a jumpstart, and I can’t count the number of times someone has helped me shovel out my driveway or car. It’s an unwritten creed that you never refuse aid to someone incapacitated by the weather, even if you’d generally ignore a similar situation on a summer’s day. Our mutual endurance brings us together.
People will always complain. They’ll be jealous of the animals that go into hibernation and they’ll stare at the migrating geese and talk about migrating south themselves. I’m not exempting myself, either – the winter is a drowsy, cold, sometimes miserable season. But in this icy solitude, this frigid reality, genuine warmth emerges. There’s a riddle in these cold months, in the dark windy nights that make torture of even a simple walk to the car.
Have you been ice-skating around Christmas time, wrapped like an Eskimo, watching families and friends laughing despite the thermometer? In winter the stars shine brightest. I think people do, too.