View From a Prairie Home

by Hege Hernfindahl, Columnist

I have always loved snow. White. Pure. Covering everything. The scars in nature. The stumps now look cute with their snow hats on. The untidy branches lying on the ground after the big windstorm now makes the snow look even more magical, little bumps gently expanding the pristine of white smoothness. The trees that yesterday stretched their nakedness to the sky, now are clothed in a veil of white.

And to wake up and see the lights reflected in the crystal whiteness. I always quote my very favorite poem; a poem I treasured even in my teenage years; “Et under skjedde stilt i natt, vi sov og det har snødd” (a miracle occurred last night, we slept and it snowed). The poem goes on to poetically describe nature after a snowfall. How the snow covers all the sins of people; their footprints are erased and made clean. And as we wake up, we are reminded that each day is a miracle. Our sins are forgiven.  We can start afresh. We have a brand-new day ahead of us and yesterday is over. We can reinvent ourselves. Joy comes in the morning as we watch the sun rise shimmering over a new world clothed in white. The snow helps us overcome the darkness. It brightens the drab colorless landscape of winter and brings us hope for a better day ahead.

And, to my joy and wonder, it starts to snow again. Slowly, I see the horizon become diffused with a special almost other-worldly light. And then this light progresses towards us and it starts to snow. The flakes dance as they make their way towards the earth. It seems all woodland creatures are silent as they gaze up as this miracle is happening. I grab a cup of coffee and sit in my favorite chair on the porch and gaze up. My heart stills and I feel inundated with peace and joy. I sit and contemplate as the intensity of the snowfall increases until all I can see is white. But through this white there is the subtle light of the storm.

And yes, a storm often follows. The wind might pick up; we live on the prairie after all. With nothing to stop the wind. So as it snows, the roads become impassable and I know from experience, as I am sure you do too, that it is not peaceful and contemplative to be out in the storm, trying to navigate roads that are invisible. When you open your eyes as wide as they can go, and everything is white. When you are grateful for the tall grass along the side of the road, because you suddenly steer by those. When your heart beats with fear of meeting another car also trying to navigate the whiteness. I always did make it home during those storms on the road. Shoulders aching from the tension of driving the 40 miles from school, where we had to stay until all the students had made it safely home while outside the storm threw snow against the windows with fierce intensity.  So, yes, I understand why people hate snow.

But even after that harrowing drive, after taking a relaxing bath and with a cup of calming herbal tea, I again would be able to enjoy the sight of the snow. And even in those days with the long commute, I would grieve a snowless winter. The roads would be easy to navigate, that is true. And without snow, the coldness of winter didn’t seem to linger. Spring would even come earlier. But it would be so bleak and, yes, boring. We would try to make the best of it. Go for longs walks. I especially enjoy walking in our many state parks.

But what is more magical than sliding along, wind whipping, as you ski the trails of those same state parks? Climbing up the hills, knowing that you get to also go down the same hills as a reward later. Coming home after a ski trip feeling refreshed and ready to take on whatever problems life throws you!

I am glad to be a Minnesotan and be able to enjoy seasons and I am glad that we finally got snow.