Midwest summer...

I hate to have to leave Minnesota in the summer. Any other time of year I will jump at the chance. But we wait so long for summer to arrive, and when it does, it is always spectacular -- beautiful clear skies, not too much humidity, everything in bloom, cool evenings. Ever since I was very young, when, while living on the East Coast, my parents would save up for vacations in the Midwest, this area has been my safe haven. Once we left New York behind, crossed over the magestic George Washington bridge, and headed out into the country, I began to breathe more easily. The population was less dense, the air smelled better, there were marvelous areas of hills and farmlands. I would wait with excitement for our crossing the Mississippi River. This marked the final divide between East and Midwest -- its magesty and loveliness was a welcome sight. Then on to the plains, to the dusty beauty of South Dakota, with it's air that smelled like hay, red-winged blackbirds that banked against the sky, the tiny hills of Ree Heights, the ranchers and townspeople who came to my Grandma's house to see us, always laden with steaks, fresh corn, tomatoes, squash, and flowers. But best of all were the horses they would bring in for my Dad and me to ride. No roller coaster at Savin Rock could possibly compare to the excitement of taking off at a gallop toward the hills and riding until sunset. When I think back on those years I realize I would have traded those years on the East Coast for a horse.

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.

Baited-and-switched into Minnesota

After having the good luck to live in Manhattan, San Francisco and Boston, I found myself given the option of moving to the Twin Cities. I came to visit during early October and foolishly believed the rest of the year couldn't be all that bad. By the time we had moved, in the deathly cold of January, transitioning from our hotel (from which we could see the full panoply of winter) to our house in a blizzard, I got the picture. By that time it was too late to back out.

The shock of living in Minnesota is something that has not lessened with the years. As soon as the cold, howling winds of October start, I'm ready to leave for someplace warm and less complex. You see, winter in Minnesota demands switching to an altar-ego -- it also means different clothes, different vehicle, and a primitive quest for survival. In short, winter in the TC is barbaric, and often terrifying -- children wait outside for school busses in temps way below zero, for example.

However, even though I would be able to leave, I am reluctant to do so, because my children, who love this place, are here. Their lives, their children, their experiences warm my heart as no southern sun could.

Just the same...This place is a challenge. So I though I'd share my experiences, so that should you decide to venture up here you will not be taken by surprise; or, if you are one of those who crave the cold instead of the heat, you may decide to come running this way.