“Summer afternoon - summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.” Many people would agree with Henry James, basking in the rays of sun that kiss their skin and the feeling of lethargy that ensues. They count down the days ‘til the warmest season of the year beings, when the days are long and time is plentiful. People rise at the break of dawn to watch a blazing yellow sun make its début, chasing away the shadows as it fills the sky with a vast array of colors: daffodil yellows, freesia pinks, and amber oranges. Admittedly this would be wonderful, if it was that simple. Those who experience this season to its fullest extent though would attest to the fact that this description is rather glorified and exaggerated; that in reality, summer can be not only be dreaded, but despised.

Summer can be described in just a few words: sun, heat, and humidity. There are very few reasonable explanations for people who reside in a climate like this: a) they are trying to mask their identity by baking their skin until it resembles cowhide, b) attempting to escape the monotony of daily life by spicing it up with heat stroke and other such desirable conditions, or c) they have an uncanny obsession with living in an air-conditioned residence. Everyone does rise at the break of dawn, but certainly not to watch the sunrise. Instead, these people were most likely up most of the night, the surface of their skin beaded with sweat, their hair dripping wet, and their pajamas plastered to their body (if they can even stand pajamas), rising only because they cannot stand the discomfort for another minute. They then proceed to spend a great part of the day inside their air conditioned house. If they do decide to venture outside, even just to get the mail, they must immediately return to the sanctuary of their house, drenching themselves under a freezing cold torrent of water in the shower if trying to cram themselves into the freezer doesn’t do it. Life here is not impossible though. A frozen glass of water thaws in a matter of seconds when placed outside, and if drank in great gulps, it may still have a cold resonance to it. Popsicles and ice cream can also help, but only if they can be eaten in a matter of seconds, to prevent it from melting all over the hands and clothes that would turn them into a sticky mess. Sure the flowers are in bloom, and the air is alive with birds chirping gaily, but what good is this if your only view is from behind glass, their song muffled until it is almost inaudible. Unless you can handle being in a sauna 24/7, you’re doomed to be a hermit indoors.  Almost anything sounds better than that; maybe even winter.

            First and foremost, I must acknowledge that the winter I am referring to is a very particular kind of winter. It is not that slight drop in temperature that causes those near the equator to scowl when they have to dig through their closets to find a long-sleeved shirt, or worse, a sweater. It is not the time when people, heaven forbid, have to turn off their air conditioners and open the windows. Those who have experienced these types of “winters” have no comprehension of the meaning of the word. The time of year I am referring to causes appendages to freeze, teeth to chatter, skin to crack, and knives to pierce the heart with every intake of breath. Eyes tear up and shrink to slits as the piercing wind threats to blind you. Noses turn red as Rudolph’s, and cheeks follow-suit as the mummification process begins. The loss of all sensation generally starts in the phalanges, the skin purpling before turning a white pure as the snow. The sight of anything green, the color of life, is a rarity. The path of destruction varies from here, fatal to those except the bravest, fiercest, most resilient people of all man-kind: Minnesotans.

 To be fair, Eskimos, cave-men, and Alaskans are also able to survive it, but I am not one of them. I am a Minnesotan, and for this reason alone, I am able to share the secret of survival. Quite simply, adapt to the change, embrace it, for you see, winter can be beautiful. The trees are all stripped of their leaves, down to the bark, nothing more than a naked trunk and branches, exposed, but striking nonetheless. Snowflakes slowly fall from the sky, bathing the trees with a white garnish, and the ground with a blanket. Children haphazardly don their winter gear before dashing out into the chill winter air, watching their breath fan out in front of them as they tip their heads back to the sky letting winter drape itself over them too. Magic is in the air as the miraculous becomes a reality. Families grow closer as they gain a new member, commonly named Frosty and angels materialize as they fan their arms and legs in the snow. Best of all though, they get to play Jesus as they glide over water on thin blades they wear strapped to their boots. Cheeks are rosy-red as the wind cuts to the bone, but eyes glitter and they smile, warmth brought by the joy from within rather than the scorching sun.