Groundhog Day 2013 is fairly mild in the heartland. The snow is dusted sugar. The air is misted grey. A person can breathe without shellacking her nasal passages into a frozen wasteland.
But in northern Minnesota, Groundhog Day is never mild. Never sugared. Never shadowed.
It matters naught what Punxsutawney Phil does or does not see in faraway Pennsylvania. If he were brave enough to live in the northern tundra, he would always be quite shadow-free on February 2.
Truth be told, most northern tundranites like it that way. Cold and snowy, that is. Cold and snowy and beautiful. Cold and snowy and beautiful and substantial. Cold and snowy and beautiful and substantial and magical. Cold and snowy and beautiful and substantial and magical and real.
Still – every now and then, sunbeamed shadows on February 2 in the northern tundra would probably be most welcome.
Like when there’s been snow on the ground since Halloween. Like when the collective preschool population is riotously climbing the city walls. Like when the ice-fishing villages have become so established that it’s hard to distinguish whether their sprawl is seasonal or permanent – or whether they will ever yield up their devoted inhabitants (who hopefully still have jobs and families somewhere on the mainland).
I’m long gone from the northern tundra and suspect I would not survive another of her winters. But at one time, her frigid air was shellackingly familiar. Sonneteering was one of several (quirky) strategies to survive the season. And so this, from 1999:
SPRING? ME THINKS NOT
Hark! What sound doth I hear out my frozen
Window payne on this early and frigid dawn?
A scraping, snuffling, earthy noyse; chosen
Claws and whyskers scratching the earth upon.
Ah! thinks I, ’tis the February’s moon
Day two – Candlemas, Purification –
A day whereupon northerners cry, “Soon,
Oh dear God we beggeth a vacation.”
But the scraping, snuffling, earthy thyng laughs
Softly in its fur, yawning at the syght
Of a dark and shadowless land what hath
No shine, no thaw, nor any ‘morrow’s light.
Up here are froze our fannies and our cars.
But in their sacred course, we’ve still the stars.
Wishing you and yours a Blessed Groundhog Day. Go ahead. Have a party.
Breathe 
Enjoyed this Crystal!!! Being raised in ND winter’s much the same as MN. and after last year’s reprieve…we once again face the old familiar below zero wind chills, etc. longing for Spring! Happy Ground Hog Day to you and we remember our dear Grandpa Wes’ birthday as well!
Mark woke up this morning and said, “Grandpa would have been 108 today.” Happy Birthday, Wes.
My dear friend Crystal–you are wonderful (as is your poetry), at least I think so.
And I hear you’re returning to the northern tundra. I admire your tenacity and verve. It helps that the northern tundra is eminently gorgeous and filled with fantastic people.
it was -11 when we were there, +55 when we got back. friends trump weather. we will have room for guests.
Beautiful photo and poetry, Crystal. Happy February!