Last month there were days when I shoveled windblown snow in subzero temperatures. Meanwhile Manyu was picking fresh mangoes for breakfast from her sister’s small orchard in Thailand. On January 23, the temperature difference between our two locales was 110°F (-20 versus +90). I appreciate the wonder of it all, even if I’m the one on the wrong end of the temperature gradient.
Remarkably it wasn’t me who complained about the cold. Manyu called me on the phone one evening to say, “It gets down to sixty degrees at night, and Niensheng’s* house has no heat. I didn’t pack clothes for this.” While careful not to dismiss her discomfort, I did cautiously point out that 1) her sister’s sweaters and jackets, if the sister even owns any, would fit her and 2) I hadn’t enjoyed sixty-degree temperatures since Halloween.**
January 23 was the coldest day in La Crosse since 2019. I would have hunkered down for the entire day, except I’d already committed to sitting at the front desk of our local nature center. I live eight blocks from the center and realized that if I used my car to get there, I’d spend more time starting the car than driving it. In the few minutes it would take me to warm the engine, I could be halfway to the center on foot. I concluded that the best thing to do was to dress appropriately and walk.
Walking turned out to be the right decision. The peaceful stroll through quiet neighborhoods became the highlight of my day. I could hear the din of traffic on Losey Boulevard two blocks away, but the residential side streets themselves were empty. No moving cars, no dog walkers, no one out for a morning jog. It was just me and the juncos.
The sky that day was cloudless, and the morning sun had just cleared the bluff. The crusty snow sparkled. Given the choice between -20° with blue skies and +10° with gray skies, I’ll take the colder temperatures every time. I can dress for cold, but not for dreariness.
Only a week earlier I’d gone to Riverside Park and was surprised to see that the previously frozen Mississippi River had reopened. I did’t need to go back to the park that day to know that the river was again iced in. I was sure that the only open spots would be the churning waters directly below the dams. This congregates the eagles and makes for excellent birdwatching. Right now there are probably a hundred big birds in the trees immediately downstream of Lock and Dam No. 8. Not only does the water rushing through the dam’s gates create a large patch of open water, but the shad that get washed over the dam become temporarily disoriented and are easy prey.
As I
review the draft of this blog for publication, I realize that I’ve described the frigid cold largely in positive terms. I do not like the cold, but I like living in a place that sometimes gets this cold. Does that make any sense? Also I am very confused by the photo of me on that cold day. In it, the balaclava on my head appears to be a two-tone gray and beige. It is actually, as can be seen in this second photo, all one color. What did the camera see that day that I did not?
* Niensheng is Manyu’s younger sister. She lives with her French husband Yves on a two-hectare compound an hour and a half northeast of Bangkok.
** I later fact-checked La Crosse’s daily temps over the past four months and discovered that there was a day in early November when the temperature reached the low 70s.
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