It can’t always be Good News from the Northwoods, to be honest most of us feel like this guy, wanting to stick our heads in a snowbank and wait until it’s over.  We’ve been absolutely pummeled with winter the past 30 days, and as I type this on an albeit sunny March morning there is yet another huge storm predicted for the weekend.  Please never take this blog seriously as a weather prediction, but it sounds like buckets of wet, heavy snow will be dropping on top of the buckets of deeply frozen, heavy snow we already have.  Also, it sounds like it will be super blow-y the way the last one was, where the stuff that’s supposed to be pointing down is instead pointing sideways and up and it’s scary to even stand outside, what with the pelting snow and the everything pointing the wrong way.

Where is the deck!? Digging out after the last storm.

In the calm between the snowstorms plow trucks are busy, ‘got-a-guys’ are scurrying around to shovel the roofs, and people are in general just waiting for the thaw. With so many snowed-in driveways and roads my snowshoes have gotten a workout this season, tomorrow morning I will be using them yet again to blaze a few trails ahead of my showing on Harris Lake.  It has been a frustrating, rather nerve-wracking time to get anything accomplished; what with school closings, meeting cancellations, and home inspections being delayed because the roof cannot be found.  In all seriousness these conditions can be extremely dangerous, my friend in real estate Andy Harris suffered this damage to his pole building.  Anyone who knows this super nice guy is glad he was not inside.


Of course, I’ve still managed to sneak a little fun into the frozen apocalypse.  We pulled the trigger on some tickets to a Frank Sinatra review at the Ironwood Theatre, a neat old place I had not been to since I was a little girl, now beautifully restored.  It was a true Northwoods date that started with a mouthwatering prime rib dinner at Skyview Lodge with all of the trimmings – breadsticks and cheddar cheese spread, creamy garlic soup (on a date you either must both have this, or neither of you can have it) a spring mix salad, and crusty garlic rolls.

Vegetarians look away…

After the show we stopped for some ice-cold microbrew and a few heated games of ping-pong at Cold Iron Brewery, then headed home under the canopy of a still and starry Northwoods sky.  If that doesn’t warm you up, I don’t know what will.

Everyone loves a Northwoods Blonde…

A starry night in da UP, eh?

I’m guessing the snowbirds reading this are thinking, yeah no thanks, I think I’ll suffer it out from the sunshine state.  You can’t blame me for trying, I’m certain the Ancestry DNA test I took will have some type of ‘annoyingly-positive-in-the-face-of-cold-and-darkness’ Finlandian in it, mixed with my mom’s German heritage, so yes positively stubborn.  Although truth be told even I get a little wonky this time of year, and more so when everywhere you look is white and puffy…like a rubber room without heat. I find myself having to take conscious steps to retain my sanity; including yoga, stopping and actually staring at the sun whenever I get a chance, and reading The Art of Non-Violent Communication.  My Mom put in a celebrity appearance as floor-time agent the other day so I could go to a yoga class, because I told her I was feeling ‘both depressed and murderous.’  Her response was ‘Welp, the sun is out, so.’

Stop and stare…a beautiful sunlit room during a pre-closing inspection.

And that is what we will hold onto, the fact that the sun IS out, and will BE out, longer and longer every day until all of this Godforsaken stuff is gone.  Yes friends, someday we will drive brazenly down gravel driveways again, we will see out of lower level windows, and even touch things outside without our hands falling off.  I’ve heard a lot of old-timers say this is one of the worst winters they can remember, but I haven’t heard one yet say they can remember one that didn’t give way, eventually, to spring.  It may be awhile before I can write of rejoicing in the sparkling open waters of our vast lakes and streams, but until then we’ll wait for the melt little by little, from Almost an Island.

Sunshine on March 8th