Snow makes a different sound when it’s this cold. It’s hard to explain the sound – like creaking leather, it comes in grindy chunks.
Native Minnesotans pretend not to notice the thing. I asked one of my coworkers about the sound, and they thought I was crazy.
There’s an aloofness about the cold, in Minnesota. My friends here maintain it’s never actually ‘cold.’ It’ll be 35 degrees and they’ll be like, “Oh, this is right balmy.”
I am reminded of the old man in Slaughterhouse Five – the one that kept saying, “This aint cold! This aint nothing!” and “You think this is suffering?! This isn’t anything.” and so on – only to be described later in the book as having frozen solid in the corner of a box car. (I am paraphrasing that reference. The exact details may be off, but the sentiment is solid.)
I took these pictures during a particularly heavy snowstorm, on my way home from work. It isn’t visible from the pictures, but there is actually much snow, dumping from the sky.
I get a lot of weird looks, taking pictures, out-and-about. And there was no shortage of long, inquiring looks while I was trying to get a bead on this snow (where to focus?).
Yes, this is really just someone’s front lawn, or just a parking strip. But it’s also something special, something unmolested. Something alluring and deadly…
Someone stopped, and watched me, trying to get this focus down (again, with a TON of snow falling on this not-cheap camera). They stayed there for a long time, watching. Trying to see what I was seeing, and then, finally, gave up and walked away, shaking their head.