As a lifelong Vermonter, I like to think of myself as well seasoned. However, I have a bit of a disagreement with some of my friends related to our recent cold weather. I crawled into a good dictionary. But we are still at an impasse. Read the full story here and please let me know what your definition is.
Define Freaking COLD
It was early fall, late September in the foliage capital of the United States if not the world. Ok, other states have pretty leaves too. But Vermont has that rural postcard character with some of the amenities close at hand as well.
As a lifelong Vermonter, I like to think of myself as well seasoned. Been through the mud season a few times; stuck in it, towed out of it, sloshed in it up to the top of my mud boots, slipped into it. Yeah, I even kinda like that sucking sound when your leg and foot move forward while your boot remains stuck in the mud.
Come time for the Champlain Valley Fair during the last week of September, the cotton candy, candied apples, and Beansie’s fries are not enough to mask the change in the breeze. The french fried air coming out of Beansie’s bus no longer feels oppressing, but comforting instead, combatting the decisively cooler air drifting up over the bank from Lake Champlain. Still the sunset over the sixth Great Lake (Clinton made it official (sort of) in 1998 with the signing of Senate bill 927 led by Vermont Senator Leahy), surely can compete with the best New England has to offer.
Sun or no, sweater weather arrives. Thoughts of winter dance in my head. Sure October can be really nice, a few touches of frost, a burst of sun to put a sparkle on the last remaining hues holding out in the trees. An occasional day of mid sixty degrees and it feels like summer is here again.
Then the clock strikes midnight. And just like in Cinderella everything changes - everything. The thermometer bounces on a trampoline teasing and taunting, perhaps preparing me for what by now I should be well aware of. It is going to get cold. But what is cold anyway?
A dictionary describes cold as relatively low temperature, as lacking affection or warmth, no longer fresh (as in the trail went cold), without preparation or rehearsal - unawares. The adverb is completely; “She knew the Florida Keys cold by age 21".
Relatively cold, ok I think I can deal with that. October 28 was frosty, little white whiskers of grass crunchy underfoot. Mud season ruts locked in place for archeologists to study later. “Ah look here a petrified boot and a Volkswagen Beetle all stuck in the mud a million years ago.”
Unwilling to be fooled or caught unawares, I nevertheless head for the barn to search for winter gear. Quickly finding the snowshoes I delight at the thought of fresh white powder. Though I wonder what stale powder or purple snow would be like. Soon I have a winter shovel in hand, a bucket of salt set by the back door, winter books, mittens, scarf, mid-layer and outer layer, an under a layer of poly, DARN TOUGH nearly knee-high wool socks, wool coat (the kind that makes you look like a lumberjack or an ole time Vermonter if it is really roughed up and a bit tarnished). I was not going to be caught unprepared this winter.
Some of my friends accuse me of lacking affection for winter, of having lost my Vermonter toughness. Winter is not that long, nor as cold as that, they all tell me. But I know, I know how it sneaks up on you, how it plays with your mind. The ski slopes, hot chocolate, snowshoeing next to bunny rabbits, sugar-on-snow (Boiling maple syrup rolled out on bowl full of snow), giant snowflakes drifting down upon out-stretched tongues, snowmen, and snow-women with carrot noses. All amidst temperatures of just below freezing, and sunshine billowing out of a bluebird blue sky.
And it is all true. And beautiful. And fun. An experience for all ages to enjoy. But there is a catch. And this year, this year, I will remember what comes next. December’s holiday season surely will throw a head fake my way, what with the jolly music everywhere, the Christmas tree and ornaments, the red, green, and blue string of lights around porches, shrubs, and any dog that has the misfortune of being caught standing still. Wearing my winter coat, mittens, boots, poly, Darn Tough socks. I am relatively warm. The music is nostalgic, people are especially nice this time of year; everyone says hi, and may the seasons best come your way.
And then it hits, just as Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer movie starts playing the part about the once every hundred-year snow storm blizzard, the forecast jumps out at me with a warning of blistering cold, high winds, ice formations, drifting snow to match California surf waves, treacherous driving, sidewalks with holes drilled for ice fishing. Yup, I knew it, cold is building up to a crescendo.
My thermometer is on some kind of a downer. Every time I look at it sinking, I shiver, cause it is already freaking cold, how much colder can it get? Worse yet, the thermometer has become a one-way only, drop like a rock, how low can we go, a barometer of my emotions. I knew I should have caught the last train to Memphis, or Florida, or California, or even Utah or Colorado - probably warmer than here. I bet all my tough Vermont friends are snowbirds beached in one of those places right now. True Vermonters my ___.
Time to fill the indoor bin with firewood, except the back door is frozen shut. As in my shoulder is sore from pushing against the door so that I can get outside and freeze my tush off, not to mention get frostbitten on the nose, and have my fingers turn purple while I lug firewood from the woodshed to inside the house. Which makes me wonder why does wood that is well seasoned becomes so heavy when you are carrying a load of it across icy steps?
Know how long it takes to go to the grocery store in winter in Vermont? Seven hundred hours. I kid you not. During the summer (July 28 - Aug 3) it takes but a moment thought to prepare to go out to the garden, pick some fresh vegetables, come in, fix dinner. In winter, one must PLAN to go out. One must PLAN on what you are going to get for food while you are out in case this is the last time this winter you are able to get out. One must dress warmly. No, I am not talking about just the long list of items mentioned earlier for dressing in December. No, come January, when winter really starts, yup, just begins in January; dressing up to go out becomes a journey through coat closets, sweater drawers, socks, and glove liner boxes. One must find ear muffs, emergency blankets, hand warmers, candles in case you freeze to death; a candle comes in handy for someone else to mark the spot, not so much in honor but more like a safety flare so someone else doesn’t trip over your frozen corpse. Believe me, seven hundred hours is conservative.
There are of course some consolations. When you do get back, and after only one hour of defrosting (yourself not the frozen chicken you purchased) and six hours of de-clothing down to just three layers of poly and your lovely DARN TOUGH socks. With just one hour of daylight left (there are only three hours of daylight in winter in Vermont on days when it is not cloudy), you can sit back with a good book (fortunately you did remember to do as squirrels and stash books in every conceivable nook and cranny in the house), and sip at the molasses thick boiled coffee that you had left on the woodstove while you were outdoors being fleeced of all the human warmth you had left inside you.
Worse case, if you run out of novels, and getaway to sunny warm islands advertisements, and you get tired of reading the instructions on how to start your snowblower which runs fine in the summer but seems to hibernate in the winter; then and only as a last resort before becoming totally claustrophobic, then you can read the dictionary. I recommend starting with the letter C. But don’t jump right to cold, take your time and get there gradually, you’ll get used to it that way. Or so they say.
Warm thoughts
If you want me I will be under the tanning salon dreaming of green Vermont hillsides.
Bernie
Hello Bernie.There are a lot of examples of defining cold in Vermont. Here's one. If when going outside to start your car you have to bundle up and have your fingers crossed that the car will start you know that is Vermont cold. If in the same situation you step out with fingers crossed and your car does not start that is damn this Vermont COLD!
ReplyDeleteCold ice hardened over beard,
ReplyDeleteBreathing hard uphill, air biting lungs,
Ruffled ravens, shiny black feathered pillows in the dawn light,
Maple, oak, beech retorting as the sun shoots it's rays into the wood,
Quiet, still, cold
I think it's being too cold to think!
ReplyDelete