(Almost) Winter in Wisconsin
As I ventured out of Erin and Reed's house this afternoon, for a walk in their neighborhood, one word came to mind: FRIGID. The temperature hovered in the mid-twenties, but the humidity was at least 80%, so the air felt much colder, even with no wind. After thirty-seven western Nebraska winters, I had almost forgotten what winter is like in the Northern states.
A few stray snowflakes sputtered down from the leaden sky as I walked briskly along the sidewalk. Soon, I was wishing for the snow pants and warmer gloves that hadn't fit in my suitcase.
I headed for the wide, asphalt path that led through the wetlands, just a couple of blocks away. The grasses were brown, of course, and tall, framing a perfect circle of ice in the middle of the marsh. Except for a lone cardinal scooting through the air, I didn't spot any wildlife.
That path ended before I expected it to, but I soon found the gravel path I had walked on a couple of days ago. This time, I had plenty of daylight, so I took the fork that led through the woods. For a few minutes, I was all alone, with nothing in sight except hundreds of stark-naked trees bordering the broad, leaf-strewn path, and a few moss-covered branches resting where they had fallen, under the trees. When I stopped to catch my breath, all I could hear was total silence.
I was reminded of those snowy, winter days when we lived in Michigan, when I stepped out my back door, strapped on my cross country skis, and glided down the two track road that led to the lake behind our house.
Today, as I came out of the woods, headed back to a warm house, I couldn't help but notice the six - and even eight-foot rock retaining walls holding back the hills. I expect that those rocks were dug out of the hills as the basements were excavated for the surrounding houses, and put to good use nearby.
Here in southern Wisconsin, winter snows usually wait until the calendar indicates that winter has truly arrived. Even then, snow falls gently, a couple of inches at a time. Actual snowstorms are rare, and blizzards are nearly nonexistent.
In just a couple of days, I'll head back to Nebraska, to be greeted by freshly fallen snow. Our winter started early this year, with three October snowstorms, and two more, including a full-fledged blizzard, the week of Thanksgiving. Nebraska Panhandle winters provide a huge contrast to Wisconsin winters.
I appreciate the changing seasons, part of God's magnificent creation, but I will be ready for spring long before it actually arrives this year. Long about February, I'll be yearning for a trip south, for a warmer winter experience. I will probably hope in vain.
But at least, at home, I have snow pants.
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| Erin and Reed's house |
A few stray snowflakes sputtered down from the leaden sky as I walked briskly along the sidewalk. Soon, I was wishing for the snow pants and warmer gloves that hadn't fit in my suitcase.
 |
| These wetlands are within easy walking distance from the house. |
 |
| This gravel path winds through the neighborhood. |
That path ended before I expected it to, but I soon found the gravel path I had walked on a couple of days ago. This time, I had plenty of daylight, so I took the fork that led through the woods. For a few minutes, I was all alone, with nothing in sight except hundreds of stark-naked trees bordering the broad, leaf-strewn path, and a few moss-covered branches resting where they had fallen, under the trees. When I stopped to catch my breath, all I could hear was total silence.
 |
| In the woods. |
I was reminded of those snowy, winter days when we lived in Michigan, when I stepped out my back door, strapped on my cross country skis, and glided down the two track road that led to the lake behind our house.
Today, as I came out of the woods, headed back to a warm house, I couldn't help but notice the six - and even eight-foot rock retaining walls holding back the hills. I expect that those rocks were dug out of the hills as the basements were excavated for the surrounding houses, and put to good use nearby.
 |
| Natural rock retaining walls line the paths and sidewalks. |
Here in southern Wisconsin, winter snows usually wait until the calendar indicates that winter has truly arrived. Even then, snow falls gently, a couple of inches at a time. Actual snowstorms are rare, and blizzards are nearly nonexistent.
In just a couple of days, I'll head back to Nebraska, to be greeted by freshly fallen snow. Our winter started early this year, with three October snowstorms, and two more, including a full-fledged blizzard, the week of Thanksgiving. Nebraska Panhandle winters provide a huge contrast to Wisconsin winters.
I appreciate the changing seasons, part of God's magnificent creation, but I will be ready for spring long before it actually arrives this year. Long about February, I'll be yearning for a trip south, for a warmer winter experience. I will probably hope in vain.
But at least, at home, I have snow pants.
He gives snow like wool; he scatters hoarfrost like ashes.
He hurls down his crystals of ice like crumbs; who can stand before his cold?
Psalm 147:16-17
Out of the south comes the storm, and out of the north the cold.
From the breath of God ice is made, and the expanse of the waters is frozen.
Job 37:9-10
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