If you had told me three months ago I would be running outside in shorts in January, I would have told you to get back on the loony bus. Cold and snowy Wisconsin winters are about as reliable as death and taxes, but our winter – up until yesterday – has been anything but ordinary. Wednesday’s high in Milwaukee was a balmy 55 degrees, nearly a record for that day.
Normally, I would fully embrace the spring-like weather. I’m not a skier, and snow brings a whole lot of responsibility and not so much fun as an adult – scraping the car, shoveling the driveway, drying dog paws 15 times a day.
That’s why I added snowshoeing to my bucket list. It seemed like an easy outdoor activity I could do to enjoy the snow for once. I scheduled my trip out to Wyalusing State Park in western Wisconsin for mid-February, figuring I would be guaranteed enough snow by then. But December and the first week of January passed, and nothing. We had a spitting after Christmas, but it didn’t stick. Old Man Winter must have been late getting back from his summer vacation, and it was looking like I was either going to have to go north to snowshoe or just hike the Wyalusing route instead.
And then, it finally came. Within 24 hours, I went from not wearing a jacket to driving home to this:
Instead of my usual grumbling over the wet, messy, white stuff, I felt a twinge of childhood excitement. If this snow can hold on for a month, it looks like Wyalusing is going to happen after all. Now I just need to track down some snowshoes to borrow or rent, which seems like a much easier task than pleading with the weather to cooperate.