The only real snow storm we’ve had in 2020 came in mid-October and was most unwelcome. Since then, it has been mild and brown. I was fine with this, since it meant I could still run outside with only a couple of layers. However, as the prospect of a relatively isolated, drab Christmas drew closer, Minnesotans started to grow antsy.
And then it came. On December 23, the grey drizzle turned into snowflakes in the early afternoon. The winds picked up and weather alerts dinged on our phones advising us all to stay put. We lit a fire. Around 6 pm, I ventured out to watch the snow plows clear out Division Street and to see all of the shops in peak coziness. We were awakened to snow plows around 4 am.
Before the sun was up, I was off, hoping to catch campus before all the plows created unattractive snow mountains everywhere. I was already too late, but it was still a gorgeous sunrise. The procrastinator geese were camped out in Lyman Lakes. The sun came out and cast brighter, cleaner shadows throughout the house. We went for another walk on Christmas in the arb, passing happy cross country skiers. The world felt almost normal.
