I have been through many Midwestern winters, living in this so-called tropical paradise of MN. This year was a doozy, however. We had a record number of below-zero days, the frost line went down to almost six feet, and we had a crap-ton of snow that never melted.
There were some silver linings, however. The cold supposedly killed the ash borer, my igloo never melted, and I got in three years' worth of XC skiing in one winter.
But yesterday morning, my ears thrummed with the most wonderful sound of spring: Thunder. Sparks of lightning lit up the early sky; they bolted down from behind a gorgeous half-formed shelf cloud. The smell of ozone was thick in the air, and I suddenly felt myself again.
It reminded me of why I put up with -29F just a few weeks ago. And people call us crazy, but sometimes I feel like the man in the following anecdote:
A man is continually beating himself with a hammer. When asked why he keeps doing it, he responds:
Because it feels so good when I stop!