It’s Tuesday. If the weather here is anywhere remotely close to the forecast, my house will be doing quite a lot of banging today. We’ll be lucky if it gets above 5°F, with a -25°F windchill to keep us all on our toes. I’ve been waiting for this!
Winter keeps many people away from Maine. It’s the first thing they want to talk about when they find out I live here. “Isn’t it cold?” they’ll inquire with a concerned look as if I just told them I like to gargle liquid nitrogen.
I’ll say yes and recite temperatures and windchills like the ones I’ve just given you. The numbers are guaranteed to keep people from moving here. But between us, I’ll share the secret: The coldest days are the best of all.
In hot climates, your life is ruled by air conditioning. You’re either sweltering outdoors under a heat advisory, or you’re numbing yourself indoors to the drone of an air-conditioner.
But in cold places, you simply add and remove layers like you’d adjust a thermostat. Properly clad (in wool, that’s a given), you’re fine. I’ve been so cozy outside in sub-zero temps that I’ve even broken a sweat. Which is when I learned that there is such a thing as too many layers.
Get outside, and the fresh air on your face and in your lungs will blow away all the cobwebs and suffuse you with joy at the mere fact you’re alive.
There’s nothing better.
“To appreciate the beauty of a snowflake it is necessary to stand out in the cold.”
I’ll see you tomorrow. Unless my eyelids freeze shut.