February

Many people are glad that February only has twenty-eight days because it lasts such a long time. To them, it is cold, nasty, brutish, and thankfully short (paraphrasing Thomas Hobbes).

They will concede that February does have its good points. In addition to Valentine’s Day, there are birthdays, weddings, and the mail carriers get a Monday off to recover from delivering all those valentines. The lawn doesn’t need to be mowed, the pool needs no attention, firewood splits easier as it has been in a deep freeze, and sidewalks stay unshoveled because most everyone has ceased to care.

They know spring is coming but are beginning to have serious doubts. I suppose that’s why some people go south (at least temporarily) – they can do without the cold and/or the snow. As a child no one I knew left the state during the winter. Perhaps it was because most of my friends were required to attend school and their parents were staying put, but the older I get the more aware I become of people who spend much of the winter in places where they don’t seem to have winter.

It’s all well and good for them – but so far I cannot imagine that I will either be pushed or pulled to warmer, southern states for any extended period of time. It’s a nice to place to visit, but it would be hard to pack up and go now anyway, as there is the matter of my employment and monthly obligations. But in ten years or so I will have other options, and yet I find no compelling reason to plan for a regular seasonal relocation.

It’s not because I ice fish (I have, but I don’t), ski (it’s been a while), skate (did – but never will again). Rather, I think it’s because winter allows for a certain lifestyle that is not held in high regard other times of the year. It is unimaginable that in June I would come home from the office, dine by candlelight, read, write, play music and go to bed, and repeat this routine again and again without comment or criticism. I tell you these are good days if approached with the right attitude.

My dad, who was not afraid of hard work, described our farm as a place “where the work just won’t quit,” when he first saw it over twenty years ago. Perhaps he had forgotten about February. This is the time of year where I have options. If I want to freeze my nose off to spite my face I can split some wood, but if I choose I can stay inside and quote W.C. Fields, “it’s not a fit night out for man or beast,” and no one would think me lazy.

On Saturday mornings most other times of the year I have to be outside mowing, trimming, cutting, or something. In February I can get up, start a fire in the woodstove, pour a cup of coffee and work on a crossword puzzle. Later I will check the water dish in the barn to make sure it’s not froze over, then back to the house to put more wood on the fire.

Life is good in Minnesota; I don’t think I’ll ever leave. You know, I could get a lot more reading done if February was a little longer.