I’m worried about the weather.
Frankly, it’s nice out. And this is why I’m worried. You see, it’s even more than nice – it’s beautiful. Temperatures in the low 80s all week, not a cloud in the sky. All very picturesque. All very friendly.
There’s something peculiar about that.
You can almost hear it, winter lying in wait, lulling you toward complacency while plotting to freeze your car locks open/closed.
Minnesota is the state that promises to hold your seat while you run to the bathroom only to have you find, upon your return, that her friends have taken up residence and they’re now mocking your choice of drink.
What’s your hurry? she whispers, a soft warm breeze in your ear. No need to check on your snowblower! We’re so far beyond that, you and I. Now why don’t you just throw down a blanket, lay in the sunshine for a while…
And then BLAMMO! Two feet of snow fall on you and they find your body in the spring.
Minnesota: Land of 10,000 Lakes. The “Brainpower” State. The State that Thinks You Would Look Better Blue.
Of course, you’ll remind me in February of how unfair I was to autumn, won’t you? After I’ve written my 30th straight post on how the weather is trying to kill me? After I’ve blathered on yet again regarding my astonishment over how I can now keep ice cream frozen quite solidly in the trunk of my car?
Heh, heh, heh. The car as four-wheeled icebox never gets old for me.
Still, I try to enjoy the seasons, but there’s been a change in the light, you see, and I think that’s what I find most troubling. We are mere days away from the shift, from the vivid colors of autumn turning to the brittle, it’s-only-recently-died look of fall.
We are mere days away from the discovery, once again, that winter is not our friend -- which means we are mere days away from another post on the restorative qualities of made-from-scratch gravy.
Hmm. Maybe it won't be all bad.
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