“Well, that was one of the shortest falls on record,” quipped one of the “locker-room ladies” at my health club. She speaks, of course, of our 2019 Minnesota autumn. As she declared, “I don’t know, did that last maybe 2 or 3 days?”, we ladies, all in various states of undress, nodded our heads in agreement.
I was on vacation in Portugal last week. Hot, sunny Portugal. On the day I left, I was wearing shorts. By the time I got back a week later, I was scrambling to find my winter jacket while my mind was in a jet lag induced fog.
Winter in Minnesota is cruel. Not only cruel; it is unfair. Unfair in the way it just hits us upside the head within a few short days.
While I was in Portugal, I went on a walking tour of Lisbon. The tour ended with lunch at a seafood restaurant. The fish stew arrived with all the mussels and crab floating around; the shrimp were perched along the edge fully in their shells, with their little black eyes staring up at us.
As often happens, the talk turned to weather. The couple from Boston had stories to tell of snow. The Chicago folks dared us to find a windier winter. New York? Oh-my-God. I stayed silent. And smug. The little shrimp and I just looked at each other and rolled our eyes at all this ridiculous talk.
Suddenly, somebody realized that they were sitting with someone from Minnesota. I simply told them it was worse than anyone could possibly imagine. They nearly bowed down to me in admiration. Of course they all wanted to know, just how could I stand it?
I don’t know how I stand it. I hate the cold, the snow, the shoveling. The knowing that the next time I talk to my neighbors we will all be 6 months older (which is a long time when you have the most adorable 3-year-old child living next door).
So, here it is. Just one more piece about my disdain for winter. As I was complaining last night, my husband said, “Well, at least we’re that much closer to summer.” As in next summer. Which was an odd, yet curiously hopeful way to look at it.
Batten down the hatches folks. Put up the storm windows, get out the shovels, and put away the shorts. Winter is coming. We all knew it would. I’ll see you again in 228 days.