Pages From a Cold Island
The gatefold of weather possibilities here in sunny Minnesota have become alarming and disconcerting. I’m heading into a week when the temperature will rise from yesterdays low of -3 degrees to a predicted high of something that might topple 61 degrees by weeks end. I am moronic on the occurrence of weather patterns but a striking 64 degree warmup spread over a few scant days doesn’t strike me as a good thing for the streets of Minneapolis. The load could easily become too hefty to bear. What will happen to the six new inches of blinding white snow that fell over the weekend? Where will it all go man?

This may sound like I’m making a grave situation out of a wonderful event (it’s going to be golfing weather by the end of the week), but just as too much acceleration on the windy roads of the Californian 101 can launch you into poor man Jacobsen’s wine fields, this kind of rapid dance towards springtime will unleash a marathon of odd behavior. And in light of these dire times and full throttle war mongering, there is a cold hearted chance that we’ll be at war by the time the temperature tops sixty in these parts.

Besides the colossal event of over six inches of fresh snow melting all at once, there’s the unpleasantness of the Minnesota stark white scare, when the cabin crazy and pale white dolphins emerge from their suburban hibernation and swim into the blinding sunlight of the day. They all get silly and excited about the possibility of springs ascension and strap on Bermuda’s and baby-tees when the thermo reads a balmy 45. By friday afternoon the streets will be congested with joggers, freshly attired and already trying to get the old spare tire off the SUV. The melted snow and dirty puddles will make things difficult for everyone. Things will turn nasty. We will be seduced into the possibility of a spring, the idea and all it’s treasures, and only when we have tee times all lined up and have made designs to spend the weekend down at the marina getting the boat ready, only then will old man winter make his final stand – plunging us back into a headstrong week of bitter times and forgiveness. I will be ready.