Every winter around this time five friends and I (all men) head to my buddy’s cabin in northern Wisconsin. I call it a ritual now since it is going on 16 years. We go for 4 or 5 days. We drink and smoke. We eat meat. We shoot guns. We play cards and games. We bake cookies. But we also get out.
This is northern Wisconsin. It is cold. It can get 20 degrees below some winters (funny how fast you can smoke a cigarette in that kind of weather) and can have many feet of snow on the ground. Perfect for cross-country skiing or for just walking around in the woods with snowshoes. One other guy and I ice fish. Hauling the gear (in 5-gallon buckets that will soon be your seat for hours) out on the windy lake in the early morning is exhausting but sure makes that first beer taste good (pro hint: do NOT leave the beer on the ice – it will freeze and explode and then you will have no beer. Fill the pockets of your coat with beer. You are welcome). We auger (no motor)! We bait. We sit. No shelter. We just sit on the 5-gallon bucket in the cold and wind. For hours. Sure, we catch some fish and later make sandwiches for everyone. But it is about the ice. About complaining but really loving it. It’s about embracing winter, a theme we explore in our re-airing this week of "Wintering in the Wild."
I don’t know where you live (if you listen to TTBOOK in San Diego I don’t want to hear it) but most of us are in the throngs of it – ice, snow, cold, dark. It happens every year. It’s not over yet (not by a long shot). Get out there. Suck on an icicle. Walk across a frozen lake at night. Marvel at a duck or a raven (three cheers to survival).
Here’s something we can all do. Next time there is freshly fallen fluffy snow go outside and just listen. Sound waves get absorbed by the gaps between snowflakes. Sounds from barking dogs and cars and buildings, in part, temporarily go away. In fact, just a few inches of snow can absorb as much as 60% of sound. A specific silence only the cold and snow can give. An offering from the gods of Winter. A respite from the storm.
– Charles