10. What Is this Awesome White Stuff? (Spend Time in Nature–Winter Be Damned)
Back when I was married to my starter husband, it was assumed I’d partake in the in-laws’ family ritual of “cabin time.” Wanting to own what those of us in Ontario call a “cottage,” (ie, country house) but not having the financial means to purchase said cottage, the family decided to build their own.
They purchased a plot of land about four hours out of the city, literally in the middle of nowhere, and began building their “log cabin.” By the time I entered the family unit, the cabin consisted of a roof and four walls, with not much else.
Inside was no running water (in either sinks or bathroom), no walls (they cleverly hung curtains from the ceiling where walls should have been), no floor (it was the same dirt that had been on the plot of land before they erected the structure), no heating but for the wood stove in the kitchen, and precious little furniture.
But boy, did they love that place. Rain or shine, windstorm or snowstorm, summer or winter, they made the trek up to the cabin on weekends. At the holidays, it was a ten-day festival of plaid flannel shirts, work boots, tool belts, dirt dragged through the house (though, due to the choice of flooring as noted above, we couldn’t actually tell) and lots of hammering. Throughout it all, I was roped into attending the adventure.
Never mind the bugs in summer. Why do mosquitos love me as they do, when I never so much as give them the time of day? Never mind the vast expanse of, well, nothing except soil, weeds and and hillsides (no visible neighbors; no civilization within hours; heck, there wasn’t even a beach within driving distance). What got me–and what still gets me to this day–was the winter.
Oh, the winter. As you may have guessed, I am not a fan of the cold. As soon as the leaves begin to turn even the slightest bit rust or copper, the internal sobbing begins. All the autumn cheer, the lively colors on the trees, the dusting off of the crockpot and lighting of the fireplace, the cozy sweaters, the “pumpkin spice” everything–it’s all ruined for me because the only thing that registers about fall is that it’s the harbinger of winter.
Winter at that cabin was its own special version of hell (or, more precisely, “when hell froze over.”). As we’d round the final bend to the half-built cabin embalmed in snow and ice, the snowbanks rising halfway up the walls, the only discernible light emanating from the moon’s glow reflected off ice crystals on snow as far as the eye could see–well, at that point the external sobbing began (don’t worry, I was quiet about it. Heaven forbid I disturb their ecstasy at the prospect of a weekend without heat, running water, electricity or a functioning toilet).
Sure, fresh snow is pretty–for about 17 seconds. After that, it’s an annoyance, a walking hazard and a threat to the circulation in my nose and feet. And ice? Don’t even ask. I’ve tried boots with extra-thick treads, I’ve tried walking only on the snow, I’ve tried those pull-on metal spikes; nothing worked. Put me on a patch of ice and, before you know it, I’m in the same spot, but flat on my derriere.
And yeah, yeah, I’ve already heard it: “It’s not the cold; it’s just that you aren’t properly dressed for it.”
I’ll have you know I’ve invested thousands in pricey insulated gloves, hats, boots, jackets and the like (I even knitted myself a super-snuggly, ultra-stylish turtleneck sweater that was meant to block out even the tiniest winter breeze)--all to no avail. I’m the only person I know who wears a pair of gloves inside another pair of gloves. I wear earmuffs ON TOP OF MY TOQUE.
And before you suggest simply “escaping” for the winter, let me confess: that’s been my goal throughout my entire adult life. Still saving for that one (which is why a paid subscription to this newsletter would be soooo helpful! Help send Ricki to Florida for the winter and she will finally stop complaining!).
Just when I think I won’t be able to bear it yet another season, I glance at my dogs and see that they are both (even nonagenarian Chaser) downright elated about the snow, more perky, more playful than at any other time, and immediately habituated.
Is it because dogs’ normal body temperature rests quite a bit higher than humans’ (at 102F or 38.5C), which means they don’t feel the cold quite the way we do? (It’s also why that guy in the haunting Jack London short story, “To Build a Fire,” wanted so badly to snuggle with his pooch when he ruined that last match in the frozen tundra and realized his fingers were frostbitten).
But the dogs also possess an instinctive appreciation of whatever is good about winter that this human just doesn’t seem to have. I read once that cold and, particularly moist cold, enhances all the scents for dogs’ noses. Clearly, they have more to appreciate when the frosty weather hits.
At the same time, dogs also find it totally natural to prance, leap, snuffle and snort in the snow when people would simply tread softly and walk on by. For instance, Zoey will sometimes submerge her entire face into a fluffy snowbank, emerging with an entirely-white muzzle, the ice crystals eventually forming and clinging to each and every one of her chin whiskers. Adorable, but not for me (I’d rather not draw attention to my own chin whiskers, thanks).
Chaser, for her part, has a distinctive habit of using her muzzle like a snow shovel, running the bottom of her jaw along any accumulation like a scoop, then eating the snow that mounds in her mouth. Even these days, when her fragile back legs are unsteady on snow and ice, she still loves to consume it.
Watching Zoey’s unmitigated zeal and the pure joy of playing in the annual gift of soft, feathery white stuff is enough to make me smile. I think for a second, “Isn’t it beautiful?” and “Yes, this could be fun.” Then reason returns, and I’m back to “Please, for the love of everything holy, someone get me out of here and put me next to a palm tree.”
Since we’re already enjoying the weather of my least favored season this week, the challenge is easy: get out into it and enjoy winter. As “they” like to remind us, the average person residing in a four-season climate will experience only about 80 of them. When I do the math, I realize there are few enough winters left that I should at least try to appreciate them.
Would I miss winter if I moved to California, or the Bahamas, or Mexico? No, no, I would not. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t put in the effort while I’m here.
Watch out, white stuff, here I come. Snow angels! Games of fetch with the dogs! Tramping through the snowdrifts–it’s all on the docket.
Let’s DO this thing!
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Follow up to last week’s challenge: stay off the internet. How did it go?
Shades of my undergraduate years, Batman! I never thought I could maintain the same self-discipline I possessed as a nineteen year-old who spent her days at Liddy Library at the University of Windsor–but huzzah!--I (mostly) did it!
Once I’d determined to stick to a schedule and plunk myself down at my desk first thing–even before showering–and start to write, well, that old habit fell back into place fairly easily.
I honestly hadn’t realized how much I’d strayed from those study habits I practiced as an undergraduate. Back then, I built a weekly schedule and stuck to it. I was that annoying student who had all her work done on time and who even occasionally–gasp!--handed essays in early. When I left teaching and started my own business in 2015, I somehow never managed to reinstall those same lofty habits.
But last week? I was nineteen again! (Okay, the return to my youth didn’t restore flexibility in my knees or an ability to guzzle beer while dancing until 3:00 AM, then head to work at 8:00 AM–but it still felt really good).
Although I never managed to stay off my devices for a full day, I do think I still garnered some of the benefits of a digital detox just by avoiding my phone in the morning. Studies have shown us over and over that we think more clearly, we’re in a better mood and we can improve our relationships, among other things, by unplugging from technology on a regular basis.
Tiffany Shlain, in her book 24/6: The Power of Unplugging One Day a Week, cites all of these benefits and more. One particularly important one? It also enhances your awareness and creates “more presence to the wonders and joys of your everyday life.” Which will come in handy when you’re looking for that joy daily.
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Over to you:
Have you ever gone without your cell phone for an entire day? Was it voluntary–or not? What was the experience like for you?
Are you a wine or a beer person? Did that change when you got older? (Recommendations, please).
Do you enjoy the Great Outdoors in winter (or any other season)? If you’re into the freezing season, what is there to like about it? (Really, I need to know).