Damn, January 30. Sure, it may be premature to say that that sign of winter is done with for the season. But really, this is the winter that isn't. I think it got into the fifties on Tuesday, and that's how the tiny crusts of snow that pock-marked the front yard were finally eliminated. We got into the fifties yesterday/Wednesday as well, and we obliterated the all-time high temperature for January 31 by, I think, eight degrees. There was a week-and-a-half in the middle of January where it was seasonably cold, and even below average. But really, besides that, it has been warm all winter, and most of the time way, way warm.
This isn't normal. It may be, however, what our normal will be. I have heard on more than one occasion that our climate will soon be like how winters in southern Iowa are now. There is a school of thought that pretty soon our winters will be like what it is in Kansas City now. I think there is a geographic and cultural benefit to being considered the icebox of the United States. I also think that we have it great in Minnesota because our winters keep out the pussies. We are going to lose that, the way things are going. I have this primordial fear that it's going to be warm enough all-year-round for fire ants to live here. I don't think that's outlandish.
But a lot of others are greeting our, uh, spring with trepidation, if not full-blown panic, and I'm not going there. Yes, I think this is a clear sign of climate change. And yet I selfishly am thinking about all the goddamn snow we got last year, the repeated times I have had to fire up the snowblower to clear the driveway (haven't had to use the blower once yet), and the oppression I felt -- "My God, when will this winter end?!" And this year, winter hasn't really started. And honestly, I don't mind it.
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