Click on Image to Enlarge
Lately, I’ve felt that familiar change in the air… the kind you notice before the first snow even falls. Mornings now have a sharper edge, a chill sneaking in under the shop door before the stove has a chance to wake up. Out back, I catch the distant echoes of wolves—not close, just far enough that their calls drift through the trees, as if they’re checking in before winter claims the land. Even the deer have changed their ways, sticking to the tree lines and moving carefully where cover is thin.
It’s funny how you can start to feel winter coming even before the snow hits. The mornings have that extra bite, and the light in the late afternoons falls differently on the hills—softer somehow, like it’s settling in for the season. Lately, I’ve been spending more evenings by the shop door, just watching the sky and the clouds move before heading inside. You notice little things out there—the clouds stretching out in long gray strips, moving east slowly, not really rushing anywhere. Sometimes it feels like they’re just hanging around, testing the air before committing.
Forecasters are saying the Pacific is restless again, storms stacking up, off the coast and preparing to march inland. Here in the north, that usually means we’ll soon get our share… the kind of snow that settles in and doesn’t plan on leaving anytime soon.
If I had to guess, December will start off mild, with cold mornings and gentler afternoons. There may be a few light snows, just enough to make you think winter is easing in. Don’t be fooled, though. as that’s simply winter testing the waters. By Christmas, the ground will be frozen solid, blanketed in white, and perhaps the lake will groan under its first brittle layer of ice.
January is when winter shows its true colors. The cold settles in, layer by layer, each snap sharper than the last. You’ll be checking your heavy blankets before turning in. Storms will roll through as well, bringing heavy, wet snow that clings to spruce branches and makes the power lines hum. There might even be one of those blizzards that hushes the world for a day or two. By that time, it’s best to have your firewood close and dry, because no one wants to be out splitting kindling in that kind of cold.
February is always a wildcard. Some years, it brings a break—a thaw, a whisper of melt-water beneath the eaves. Other years, it tightens its grip, dropping another foot of snow just when you thought the shovels might get a rest. My guess is we’ll get both—a warm spell to muddy up the back roads, then a hard freeze to lock everything up again. That’s the way it is in this country.
By March, everyone’s ready for a change, tired of white, tired of scraping boots at the door. The snow will begin to slump away from the shed walls, the crows will grow louder, and the sun will remember how to shine. There might still be a storm or two, trying to remind you winter’s not quite finished, but by then, the worst will be behind us.
Anyway, that’s the way I see it—a true northern winter. Cold enough to bite, snowy enough to earn your rest, and stubborn enough to test your patience. Nothing comes easy, but nothing is beyond your reach, either. And, as always, nothing in life is set in stone.
Until the next time: Keep Your Minds Open & Your Stories Alive. GW
All my books are available on my Amazon Author Page.
If you purchase a book, a brief Amazon review really helps new readers discover my work—it means a lot.
Support my writing: Support My Writing
In Closing, I Would Like to Wish You Well!
George Walters | [email protected]
