It’s early morning, and I’m wondering if I can get away with wearing a flannel shirt to work. Thankfully, my job is behind the scenes at a public library, so I don’t have to adhere to a very strict dress code, but still…a plaid flannel shirt feels a little casual. On the other hand, I’m freezing. Decision made. Flannel wins.
Winter in the Midwest, where I’ve lived most of my life, is an exercise in survival and fortitude. The familiar “winter burrow,” when my neck and shoulders begin to melt into the rest of my body in order to conserve heat, begins in November. That’s when cold winds strip the trees of the remaining leaves and the world seems to be all shades of browns and grays. In December, there is some relief because of all the festive holiday lights and decorations. January settles into a cold, desolate winterscape once again. The lights and tinsel and baubles have been packed away, but a fresh layer of snow can brighten things up.