The High Cost of Living in Minnesota

When I moved here from Boston I was dazzled by the beauty of early October, and decided that any place this majestic was worth the effort to make myself comfortable during the winter months I knew would follow.

Winter, however, fell into a new catagory, based on my naive experience with Boston and the New York City area. This was not simply 'cold', it was an entirely new dimension in cold. Snow fell not in inches, but by feet. Frostbite was not a remote possibility, it was at times a daily threat. The winds that waft over us with such promise in the fall turn to a new and frightening intensity in the winter, blowing snow up into the air, blinding our view and making travel treacherous. It gradually occurred to me that I was taking my life in my hands to travel across the cities during a snowstorm. The heavy traffic that seemed to accompany such efforts only made things worse.

What have I gotten myself into? I began to wonder.

Now I am experienced at living here. I can counteract my distress at the howling winds with the sight of one of the beautiful city lakes in front of the rising sun. I can hope that when the skies clear we will be treated to an ethereal vision of Northern Lights. I can travel with determination through pelting snow to get to a location where I can be one of the first to ski on the new snow.

But the reality remains -- first, there are two winters in Minnesota -- the arctic winter, with its bitter wind chills, and the East Coast winter that follows. Together, they take up about six months of the year. In order to live comfortably in Minnesota year-round, and to accommodate the intemperate season, it is necessary to have two different wardrobes -- one full of fleece and fake fur, woolens, long underwear, fuzzy warm boots and gloves, the other for the more temperate time. Next, we need two different vehicles -- something with four-wheel or all-wheel drive for the winter, when we need every advantage possible on the tricky and frequently unplowed roads, and a convertible (or vehicle with better mileage and a sunroof) for the summer.
We need work that we can do at home during the winter, or at least the bad weather, and work in the summer that takes us out into the glorious sunshine and warmth.

That leads us to the last necessity -- a means of getting out. We need to save for vacations to places of warmth in the winter, at the very least. If we don't mind the ticks and bugs and muddy lake bottoms, we also might need a cabin up north to escape to during the summer. And ultimately, unless we have fabulous health and tenacity, we need another home; one where there is plenty of warmth and sun, and, if we are very lucky, big water. Perhaps someday we will escape there and only return to Minnesota for the spectacular summer months. Who knows?

So the best advice when you are living here is to have an escape strategy, and perhaps even an exit strategy; that is, unless you cherish the bitter cold winter and unyielding 'spring'.

Entering the Second Winter

Here in Minnesota we are treated to a veritable banquet of winter; it comes, it stays, it has varying intensities. I wear a turtleneck and ski socks during much of that time, especially as I spend a lot of time outdoors walking our snow-loving dog Jesse and skiing.

But last week, after a dearth of snow and an abatement of the bitter cold, we found ourselves dumped on with a good 4-6 inches of white stuff. The real cold returned. It was an inevitable sign - - we were entering our second winter.

The First Winter starts around November, though it can hold off until December. Once it starts it is relentless, with the temperatures becoming colder and colder until they (usually) reach their nadir of well below zero sometime in late January. This year I think we had over 80 hours straight below zero. That is tough, as every venture outside demands preparation and determination. The alternative is to become quickly chilled or worse. So the First Winter is the arctic winter. Whiteout, howling winds, occasional exquisite Northern Lights, all comprise these months of extreme cold. At times there will be a day above freezing, when everyone runs around the nearest lake in shorts and a sweatshirt; but for the most part, it is simply frigid.

But then, usually after some sort of break indicating that a major shift is taking place, we switch to the Second Winter. This is more like an East Coast Winter. Winds are still prevalent, ice takes the place of endless snow, and grass at times peaks through the dense cover. This year, we lost most of the snow cover prior to the Second Winter -- in fact, we were left with grundgy snow on the sidewalks and bubbly sheets of ice on the lawns.

But now the Second Winter has made its home once more, and though the temperatures do not linger so long below freezing, this is the most torturous time of year. Something inside us cries for justice -- winter should end, and jonquils should peep out from under the juniper bushes. Warm bands of sun should greet us on our daily walks instead of bitter wind slicing the damp into our bones.