From some of the replies I’ve gotten to my last post, I realize I didn’t actually make it clear where I’m living now. I’m living in a little country house about halfway between Ashland and Washburn, Wisconsin.
Here in Minnesota, a long, punishing Winter has been followed by a lovely Spring, which has been followed by a spirited Second Winter. The morning of the 11th, before I started writing this, snow fell with a brown tinge from dust that blew in from Texas. (Meteorologists call this “snirt”.) Later that day while unlocking my bike to travel down slushy roads that two days prior were clear and surrounded by green lawn, I saw a flash, looked up into the pelting hail, and heard thunder.
If you think you’ve seen icicles, you’re probably wrong unless you’ve been to Minnesota.
If I tell you that I traveled clear to the other side of the Midwest for the opportunity to trudge six miles across a snow-covered, frozen bay in the dark of night, you might be inclined to ask why. Well, I can’t tell you that. There are certain things in life that we just have to do. Maybe it’s something to do with thrillseeking or spending time with friends, or maybe it’s just a more primal urge that we all have: There’s something missing in my life, and it’s a six-mile trudge through the night across a snow-covered, frozen bay. Don’t just look at me. Over four thousand other people did it too. Many of them paid good money for the privilege.