Tag: winter

Winter storm

February 11th, 2025

It’s dark through the window. The sun is still an hour from rising. As I sip my coffee and look out, in the barely there glow of pre-dawn light I see white powder piling on the stair rail. We’re expecting maybe 7 inches of snow before it turns to sleet then freezing rain tonight.

I’m excited for it. I’ve got my comfies on: sweatshirt, sweatpants, wool socks. Our cat Tubbles is purring against my chest as I type. On the kitchen counter, I’ve got chickpea flour soaking for a flatbread I’ll bake tonight in a cast iron skillet. The bread will accompany a toasted grain soup with mushrooms and kale that I’ve been wanting to try for a while.

I brought in extra wood and laid a fire in the fireplace last night so that all we have to do tonight is light it. We’re cozy and warm. We’ve got cats and blankets and the makings for warm, comforting food. We’re ready for snowfall.
Sun-warmed long johns

January 30th, 2025

I was optimistic yesterday. The high temperature was to be 53℉ (12℃). After weeks of arctic cold and the accompanying heavy clothes that go with it, I was excited to wear something besides pants. I swam, took a steaming shower, and decided to mix things up with my clothes for the day. I dressed not in jeans or corduroys or wide-legged cargo pants, but in a skirt and fleece-lined tights.

I made it to mid-morning before I changed. Even with a blanket on my lap, and even working from my son’s desk upstairs instead of my cold basement office, I could not stay warm. I was chilled enough that I knew that changing from a skirt to pants alone wouldn’t do it; I needed two layers.

I went down to the laundry room, also in the cold basement, and rooted around in my basket of clean clothes for the thermal underwear I’d washed and dried over the weekend. I considered throwing the bottoms in the drier to warm them up but didn’t want to have to wait. When I brought them upstairs to change, though, they were icy in my hand. I shivered to think of pulling them on cold. I thought maybe I’d sit on them while I worked to warm them up before I put them on. Then I saw a bright patch of sunlight beaming down on our bedroom carpet.

The front of our house faces south, and sometimes during the work day, I’ll take a break to go stand in the sun that pours through the windows. I’ll put my hands up to warm them, and I’ll just stand there and enjoy the heat that radiates through the glass.

When I saw the patch of sunlight on the floor — the sunbeam the cats frequently lie in to warm themselves — I knew what to do with my long johns. I lay them in the rectangle of light framed by the window, then worked at my laptop in our son’s room to give them time to soak up the sun’s heat.

After about 10 minutes, I went back to check on them. Our cat Tubbles was curled up on them in the sunlight. Double heat! I pressed my palm against the kitty-free leg, and the waffly fabric was as toasty as if I’d just taken it out of the drier.

I shooed Tubbles away so I could change into my sun- (and cat-) warmed underlayer. As soon as I slipped my first foot in and felt the cozy heat of the thermal against my ankle, I knew I’d made a good choice. What a luxury to warm clothes up before putting them on!
Finding winter warmth

November 30th, 2024

The bird baths have disks of ice in them, like miniature skating rinks. Birds will find no liquid here to drink or splash in. Glacial gusts bend the grasses and rattle the bare branches of trees.

Cows lay on the sides of hills in their pastures. I saw them when I walked in the cold today. They faced the same direction I walked, with the hill at their backs. I rarely see them lying down; they must have gotten low to the earth to get out of the wind.

The temperature this morning was 23 ℉. That’s pretty chilly. Despite the cold, I needed to get outside and move after all the pies and mashed potatoes and stuffing of Thanksgiving, then egg nog and chocolate torte and beer for our son’s 21st birthday the day after.

I bundled up for my walk. I wore a fleece running shirt, a heavy-weight hoodie, a puffy jacket, long underwear, hiking pants, thick wool socks, gloves, and my headphones. I cinched the hood of my sweatshirt around my baseball capped face and listened to a short story on the first half of my walk. I thought, “It’s not that cold,” as sweat dampened my back. I’d dressed for a wind chill of 17 ℉.

At a bend in the path, at the top of a hill, an arctic gust slammed against the side of my face and blasted behind my glasses. Tears instantly streamed down my face. The air felt like ice shards against my eyeballs. I could feel my nose turn bright red.

I had been cozy because the wind had been at my back. It occurred to me as I pulled my neck warmer over my nose: the cows didn’t just lie down to get low. They positioned themselves intentionally, on on the lee side of the hill, to put high land between them and the cutting wind.

On the return walk home, frosted air blasted me in the face. My cheeks burned with the cold. I pulled my hood off to feel the icy wind blow under my hair and against my scalp. I felt invigorated. I felt alive.

Now I’m back home. After a steaming shower, I’m cozy in my fleece-lined tights and winter favorites: slippers and a thick sweater. A cat is curled in my lap with her chin resting on her paw in the crook of my left elbow. Her girth spreads onto the trackpad on my laptop, highlighting words as I try to type. She purrs against my belly. I am her warm spot, like the cows found on the side of their hill.

Daily writing prompt
What are your two favorite things to wear?
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Sauna

December 20th, 2023

Mornings have been icy cold the past two days. Yesterday, I sat at our kitchen table with my notebook at 5am before my swim, and my phone rang: schools would be closed due to dangerous driving conditions. I didn’t know whether that meant the aquatic center would also be closed. I debated for ten minutes on whether to make the attempt — to go out in the cold to warm up the car and scrape the windshield in a wind that felt like ice shards — knowing the pool might be closed when I arrived.

I decided to risk it. The roads weren’t that dangerous, not in a Suburu; there was no weather happening except wind, there were just some icy patches. Nobody is on the road around here at 5:15am, and the entire 7 minute drive has a speed limit of 25mph, so I was safe.

When I arrived at the aquatic center, the lights were on inside, I saw lifeguards and our trusty early morning attendant getting the sign-in sheet ready inside, and other swimmers sat in their warm cars waiting for the doors to be unlocked.

On the pool deck, everyone chattered about going through the same wondering thought process I did — will it be open if schools are closed? — and then we all got in and swam our laps. The pool I go to is warm, thankfully, and steam rose from the lap lanes.

The locker rooms, however, are not warm. After my swim, I opened the door to the changing room, and the cold air on wet skin was a bit of a shock. The splashing of swimmers echoed on the tile floors and walls, and I stood dripping in a puddle on the cold floor. I grabbed my towel, which I’d hung next to the sauna. I eyed the sauna door and thought, hmm, it’ll be warm in there. So I stepped into the wood-planked room. The wooden floor was warm on the soles of my feet. The planks were absorbent and welcoming. No standing in puddles. I was enveloped in heat, a muted quiet, and the scent of warm cedar.

I toweled off in the sauna, and it was such a delightful experience, such an easy little treat to myself, that I will make it part of my winter swimming ritual. I’ll brave the cold mornings to drive to the pool and swim, and my reward at the end will be to dry off in the sauna, where the heat warms me to my bones.

Daily writing prompt
What was the last thing you did for play or fun?
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Welcome, gray

November 28th, 2023

I had to have a small skin cancer removed yesterday. It’s nothing dangerous or life threatening. It’s nothing to worry about, truly. I mention it because as I lay back at the dermatologist’s with my eyes averted, I thought about how we’re almost in winter now, and I am glad. The sky is a stormy gray out, and wind whistles over the chimney. When my husband and I hiked last weekend, the sky was gray, the trees were naked and gray, and the trail was thick with copper brown leaves. We were bundled in hats and gloves, and my cheeks were cold and red.

I was surprised when I traveled from Palma de Mallorca in Spain to Munich in Germany, and of the two, I fell in love with Munich. I connected with the atmosphere, the landscape, the trees. I instantly connected in my soul. It rained almost the whole time we were there. The sky was gray, the puddles were gray. I wore black boots to walk and a black coat with a black furry collar. I could see my breath, and I walked with my hands shoved in my pockets. And I loved it. I loved the moodiness, I loved the brisk air. I loved the cozy shops and the dripping leaves.

I used to think I wanted to live in an eternal summer. As I lay under the knife yesterday to have a skin cancer removed, I was grateful for winter, and for days that aren’t sunny.
Running in the cold

November 16th, 2022

The time of year has come when I heat my mug with boiling water before I pour my coffee in. My coffee stays warm longer that way. We’ve had fires in the fireplace the last two nights, and I had to add another layer of clothes during the day yesterday to keep from shivering at lunch.

In other words, it’s cold.

I’m actually eager for the cold this year. I love a crackling fire. I love the forced restfulness and the introspection the dark brings.

What I don’t love is that the cold makes exercise more fussy. I can’t get up and run first thing because it’s dark out. And then when it does become light, it’s cold, and I don’t want to go out in it. I don’t know how to dress for it. If I dress to make myself more likely to step out the door — warmly — then I’ll get hot on my run and won’t have anywhere to store the clothes I’ll want to shed.

Right now I wear running tights, socks that come above my ankles so no skin is exposed in the gap between the bottom of my tights and the tops of my socks, a long-sleeved running shirt, and a puffy vest, ready to get myself outside as soon as it’s light, which it is now. Except I’m also under a fleece blanket, and I’m going to be cold when I get out from under it.

The wind blows across the top of the chimney, making a gusty metallic sound. I see the treetops sway. I guess I’ll need my windbreaker, too. And the new gloves I bought to encourage myself to get outside and run in the cold.

I know I’ll like it once I do it. It’ll be bracing. It’ll be invigorating. It’ll be better than workout videos in the basement. Okay, here goes.