Monday, 8 January 18

The dead of winter. That’s where were find ourselves on this 8 January 2018 in far northwestern Minnesota, where the latitude is much higher than Toronto. We of the northern climes know that January is the coldest moth. We don’t need no gull-dang meteorologists to tell us that. But after interminable weeks, yesterday we had a reprieve going from -24 (or thereabouts) in the early morning hours to 12 above in mid-afternoon. “Wow”! People exclaimed with amazed joy. “It’s almost balmy.” and “Time to take off the mukluks.”  For those of you non-Minnesotans, you see we have just weathered (pardon the homonym or homograph – take your choice) the second coldest period in our recorded history for late December/early January – as reported by National Public Radio. Thirty below, without wind chill popped up (really down) on our thermometers more than once during that interval. Immigrants from warmer climes ask us natives (or long-time residents – 18 years for this writer), “Can it get any colder?” The answer is “Yea, you betcha.” When the migrants get their first look at the winter clothes and gear we wear, they remark with disbelief, “You actually go out in public dressed like that?” Sooner rather than later, these newer settlers will be bundling up, and saying “Oh geez,” and asking “Cold enough for ya?” the later question being the greeting of choice coming muffled out of scarves and bomber-like head coverings. All that being said, there was good news, too. Our winds during this lenghty time could compete with San Diego breezes. Add to that the good fortune that we had nary a snowflake fall during the same period, and freezing rain just doesn’t happen at such bottomed-out temperatures. When does snow fall? For those of you who care, snow can form at 32 degrees down to about 15 degrees when there is little moisture in the air. At what temperature is it too cold to snow? That 15-degree marker separates the winter snowy-cold from the approaching single digits. Snow can fall at these lower temps, but the single digits, and especially below zero makes the white stuff unlikely. Add one more factor: the lack of snow at lower temps is due to the dryness of the atmosphere, not because it’s too cold. But wouldn’t you know it, as soon as the temps started rising, so did the winds – the kind that blow heavy streaks of snow across highways, and lower visibility. Tall pines swayed in the blusters.  Ah, but I digress. We were speaking of “the dead of winter.” What does this term mean? The obvious is that we’ve just passed the winter Solstice, the day with the least light of the year. Also, some of the lowest temperatures of the year typically invade our minds and bodies at this time. These things goes without saying. The Oxford English Dictionary’s first example after a definition similar to the above is, “Golf can be an unpleasant experience in the dead of winter.” Moving into the more poetic, any English speaker would identify “the dead of winter” as a term used more in literature than in common speech. Can you imagine a northern Minnesotan asking a friend, “How’s the dead of winter going for you?” Another way to parse "the dead of winter" here, and farther north, is what we call the “30-30-30 rule.” The term translates: at 30 below zero, with a 30 mile per hour wind blowing, any exposed flesh will begin the first stages of frostbite (no small thing) in 30 seconds. I first learned about this rule from my father who was in aviation, and warned me with this maxim when he sent me out to unload an aircraft (behind its wing) with the propellers turning. The activity pace at this time of year slows to as much of a crawl as possible, considering most of us still have to brave the features of winter to get to work and to other important places. Still, we tend to sleep as long as obligations permit. We stay huddled by our proverbial hearths, and we wonder how anything can survive these conditions. But they do. There are the near misses of deer venturing out onto the highways. If one puts out seed and other bird delectables, the chickadees, the blue jays, and the grosbeaks will gather round, not to mention the hairy woodpeckers. They vie with one another for the goodies, swooping down and taking bites whenever they can. Yup. You betcha. I’m watching them out my window as I type this. (I’ll check for typos later.) In this avian world, red squirrels do what they can to carry away food to add to their stockpiles.  Yes, there is dormancy in this deep-freeze world, but as the saying goes, life goes on -- even in the dead of winter. Perhaps most astounding of all is the persistence of the human species under these conditions. Our furnaces and fires, our outlandish winter fashions, our steaming soups and stews, and not the least, our determination to live this way and brag about it, all add up to an unlikely survival in this Arctic-approaching world. But when we feel sorry for ourselves, we remember that part of the U.S.A. is much much beyond our latitude, and there is a whole country north of our borders. So, buck up, muffin. And when your thermometer reads minus thirty, feel free to utter a hearty, “Oh geez.” Stay Warm, keep the fires burning, and bundle up even when fashion dictates otherwise. Jack Pine Savage speaks to start your week. As for those who have suffered through the brutal season: William Shakespeare King Richard III; Act 1, Scene 1 – Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Sonnets; Sonnet 5 For never-resting time leads summer on To hideous winter and confounds him there; Sap cheque'd with frost and lusty leaves quite gone, Beauty o'ersnow'd and bareness every where. Percy Bysshe Shelley O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind? Sinclair Lewis Winter is not a season, it's an occupation. Venerable Bede Ireland, in breadth, and for wholesomeness and serenity of climate, far surpasses Britain; for the snow scarcely ever lies there above three days: no man makes hay in the summer for winter's provision, or builds stables for his beasts of burden... the island abounds in milk and honey. Willa Cather Winter lies too long in country towns; hangs on until it is stale and shabby, old and sullen.