Winter Is Coming (Or So They Tell Me)

 Amazing, but true:

It was 52 degrees Fahrenheit outside Tuesday when I left work for the day, and it was January 10th.

January tenth!


I even heard rumors it was 56 degrees in Eden Prairie.

My orderly Minnesota instincts are upside down. There's patchy bits of leftover snow on the ground (first non-white Christmas in memory for me) and squirrels such as the Don are so fat, they can barely waddle along their tree-top highways.

And they seem to be spending an inordinate amount of time chasing each other in what a suspicious mind would say looks like horsing around. Or maybe that's being squirrely.

Other than a light dusting weeks earlier and a few inches on New Year's Eve, there's been zero snow. Accompanying this have been freakishly warm temps. It's like we blundered into a temporal rift and somehow ended up in March, zooming lightheartedly through December and entirely skipping January and February. I saw people going coatless yesterday. In January! It's as if we're thumbing our noses at Old Man Winter.

Or so it feels to me. I'm not mocking him, however. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop--it's Minnesota, for crying out loud! Last year we had 3-4 feet of snow already on the ground and temps were a more standard single digit or near it.

This just feels like a trap.

Not to say that I'm not enjoying it. I've taken advantage of the past few weeks of mild 40-50 degree weather to sport my last skirts and dresses for awhile, as the arctic cold I've come to dread and loathe will eventually arrive to banish them back to the closet until warmer winds prevail.

I'm just not going to rub my pleasure in the weather in Old Man Winter's face. I figure those first days of teen and single digit days will cow me into a chittering and trembling wretch quick enough without daring him to do worse.

You see, I think I've figured it out. This is all his doing, after all.

Normally we get an incremental adjustment to the temperature as the holidays pass by and the new year rolls in. By the time the really cold months hit, we're acclimated (as much as we can be) to the below zero temps and frostbite-inducing winds.

The reverse of this effect at the waning of winter is one that leads to seemingly outandish behavior, when out-of-towners may witness native Minnesotans going about their business in shorts and flip flops on a mild March day.

No wonder we're a puzzle to outsiders. The same 45 degree temp in October that sends us scurrying for fall jackets has us cavorting as if we're in the Bahamas when it occurs on a sunny March day.

This insidious but adaptive process helps us survive the winter. This year, stripped of our protective acclimation, I fear that when the cold does finally arrive, it will seem all the colder for the easy respite we've been given so far.

Be afraid, be very afraid, for Old Man Winter is puffing his icy cold breath our way and smiling maliciously.

My only consolation is the fact that his plan has a severe backdraw--we're already over a week into January without a below zero temp or even a day below 20 degrees! We're practically there, baby, yeah!

But let's not get too excited, remember. He's a cantankerous old man, Winter, and March is still within his domain and he can make it a real bitch.

*All of these pictures were taken yesterday by the Big B when he got home from work. Is there anything sadder looking than a bare yard in the middle of January?