Frailty, thy name is Minnesotan

It snowed last night. While we were sleeping, a soft blanket of fresh, white flakes covered the brown dreck of early spring. Over the dog poop, string cheese wrappers, cigarette packs, and other accumulated refuse of a season of neglect.

At 5:00 this morning, I heard the plows go by, but I didn't need that scraping sound to know that we would wake up to the solid form of precipitation most bemoaned by Minnesotans. I could tell from the quality of the light coming in through the curtains in Finn's room, where I had retired after one too many kicks to the back by himself.

In a few hours, I would wake to wailing and gnashing of teeth on various social media platforms as Midwesterners prove how not-resilient we are. We talk a good talk, but when it comes down to it, we don't cope very well with winter. Or summer. Or weather.

To be fair, it's most likely a condition of humanity in general. It's easy to complain about the weather, and most people are going to agree with you; then you can wallow in common misery. Fun!

But it's truly bizarre, in some ways. There is nothing we can do about it, so crying to the heavens about the cold or the snow is about as useful as, well, crying to the heavens about anything. Weather is truly, madly out of our hands. We have tools to cope with it, such as outerwear, sunblock, and indoor climate control, but the weather will be what it will be.

As I sit on my livingroom floor playing pretend kitten with my son, I can look out the windows at a grey sky and rooftops still striped with white, and I know that it is spring. We are not at the start of a long haul, nor are we trapped in the middle of what seems like endless cold. It is spring. The lilies and irises are poking up next to the garage. The ice that choked the driveway is almost gone. The earth has a smell of darkness and possibility to it.

This is spring. And it has snowed. The snow does not make it winter; we do. Indeed, it will snow more this evening and into the night.

This is my song of Shut the Fuck Up. Minnesotans, this is Minnesota. I think you have met before.

Just think. In a few short months, you can be bitching endlessly about how hot you are.

Won't that be fun?