The Cold

It’s been frigid in our corner of the world. I mean frigid. Temperatures reaching lower than -45 Celsius with the windchill. Don’t ask me to explain windchill, but it’s real, and it’s cold.

Being a winter lover in general, I love cold, crisp winter air. This kind of cold though, is bitter, brittle. You feel it on your skin as soon as you hit the outdoors. If you’re not dressed for it, you’ll get frostbite. It’s part of living up here in the North.

So what’s good about cold? What’s good about winter?

  1. There’s less crime. Crime statistically drops during winter, and drops even more the more brutal the weather gets. It makes sense. Who wants to be skulking in an alleyway waiting to jump someone in -45?

  2. More cuddle time with your person. When it’s too cold to go out, we hunker down at home with our pets and our people and cuddle up in our comfiest pj’s.

  3. We mostly think of gaining weight in the winter. That extra layer of fat keeps us Northerners warm. However, shivering can actually help you lose weight. True story!

  4. No bugs. (i like a lot of bugs though, bees dragonflies and ladybugs among them)

  5. Colder temperatures have scientifically shown to increase longevity by 20%! No human studies yet, but it’s encouraging if it happens in animals. Right? (I’m trying here)

  6. It’s just pretty. Imagine how many people have never even seen the pure white of a blanket of snow covering the earth. When it’s sunny, it makes everything brighter. In the moonlight, it’s downright magic.

    I’ve loved this winter poem for quite a few years, and it echoes my feelings about the season, so I’m going to leave you with this today. Bundle up in your fancy parka, put on those mukluks and embrace the beauty of the season. Why be miserable about things you can’t control?

    xxx C

    A Winter’s Cloak by Joyce Rupp

    This year I do not want 
    the dark to leave me. 
    I need its wrap 
    of silent stillness, 
    its cloak 
    of long lasting embrace. 
    Too much light 
    has pulled me away 
    from the chamber 
    of gestation. 

    Let the dawns 
    come late, 
    let the sunsets 
    arrive early, 
    let the evenings 
    extend themselves 
    while I lean into 
    the abyss of my being. 

    Let me lie in the cave 
    of my soul, 
    for too much light 
    blinds me, 
    steals the source 
    of revelation. 

    Let me seek solace 
    in the empty places 
    of winter’s passage, 
    those vast dark nights 
    that never fail to shelter me.