Get Out

We're having a "real winter." The kind that sends the faint of heart back to wherever they came from (California). Perpetually dark skies. Flood warnings every weekend. Rainstorms worthy of horror films, with the wind lashing a torrential spray against your windows.

It's nice. It's what makes it a little rugged up here. More weather today? I don't even care. I'll slosh my way to work again, keeping a towel ever close to dry off the dog. Sunshine is a fantasy. The littlest blue, a fleeting pinhole on the horizon—that shit can last me a whole month. I live in the North Country.

Key to winter survival is the ability to get out of the city.

As mentioned elsewhere, I have adult-onset phobia of driving in the snow, but I happen to know a handy fellow with a 4-wheel-drive car. We've escape toward the mountains whenever possible. You can breathe a little deeper up there, take in some natural light. You can walk. You can hike. Stumble on the ice. Maybe snowboard? Hell, even telemark if the mood so strikes you. Any outing involving physical exercise in the cold is what I suggest. Bring drinks, bring snacks. Bundle up. If yer like me, wear two sweaters at once but forget your gloves. It's all about getting the blood moving and tapping into the wilderness vibrations.

See, rain is very dark (especially today—the darkest day of the year), but snow—snow is bright! It holds the light. It makes the evergreens sparkle in the dead of winter. If the spirit of the solstice is rebirth, then I would argue that there's nothing more solstice-y than retreating into the cold, embracing a polar adventure, and then driving back toward the warmth of the city through that strange late-afternoon dusk.