Snow Walk

When you live in Chicago and winter sets in after the sparkle of the holidays is gone, it can be a bleak place. The sun is elusive, offering up its fire about an average of once a week, if you're lucky. The bricks and mortar of the city are grey and hard, the trees are brown and twisted, and seem like they'll come alive any minute like the big trees in Lord of the Rings, the landscape is white. Still, we're not bears. We can't hibernate all winter and emerge with the spring flowers, refreshed and ready to gorge ourselves on salmon, even if that's what we feel like doing. So today I took advantage of the balmy temperatures (that's around 32 degrees this time of year) and went for a snow walk.

As I bundled up and left the cozy heat of my apartment, I felt like a kid getting ready to go out and play. I thought, maybe I'll even make a snow angel! I didn't, but the thought made me smile. I walked down the street where the snow had taken on a decidedly muddy hue. A slushy, grey-black mess. Ah, winter in the city, so beautiful. I figured I needed to keep walking towards the lake and the snow would get cleaner and brighter. I was not disappointed. As I walked I passed by romping dogs with snow on their noses, kids laughing and playing unaware that they were completely wet from the snow, and joggers. There were a lot of joggers, actually. I thought, man, these people are dedicated. As I crossed the bridge over Lake Shore Drive, I was greeted by an impromptu snowman, smiling a twiggy smile, a sort of sentinel marking the passage from city to lakeside tranquility. Tranquility might be a strong word, but if you block out the whooshing of the cars and stare at the lake long enough you can transport yourself to the middle of nowhere. It's divine.

Once on the lakeside of the bridge, I made my way through the snow and perched on the edge of the rocks. The lake was frozen up to about 100 feet out from the shore. It was snow covered and the ice sort of jutted up making jagged, snow-capped formations. Through the snow you could see the aqua-colored ice. I imagined how starkly beautiful the arctic must be. The earth really is an amazing place, even if it is trite to say so. As I looked out toward Michigan, the lake and the sky met creating this steel blue horizon. The whole world seemed frozen. I took in as much of that peace as I possibly could hold. I walked for a bit along the lake, picking up the perfectly packing snow and forming it into a snowball. I contemplated pegging one of the joggers with it, but that's not my style so instead it met with the bark of a nearby tree. I figured the tree wouldn't mind.

On my way back to "civilization", I continued my snowball fight with a few more trees. It reminded me of this mega-snowball fight we had one night when we were kids. It was a ranch-wide affair, no rules other than to hit the other team as much as possible, and it went on for what seemed like hours. My team consisted of the young truck driver, my friend Allison and me. The other team was made up of my two brothers and the rodeo clown. Our strategy was to make as many snowballs as we could carry and to go up to the hay loft that had a window that opened up to the outside. From there, we could nab the other guys without getting hit ourselves. It was genius, at least that's how we felt about the plan. It was one of those times, looking back on it (with great nostalgia if you haven't noticed), when I felt like the luckiest kid in the world. I mean, I had a hay loft that was made for snowball fights. Throwing those snowballs today transported me back to that time and I went on my way, back to the sludgy streets, to run my errands before heading back to my place.