Sun Dogs on the Prowl

Photo: Dusty Matthews

It's been a long time since it's been cold enough in Minneapolis to see sun dogs, but as I unplugged the block heater on the pickup this morning and coaxed the truck to life, there they were at the edge of the horizon.

People in Minnesota tend to take pride and a sense of identity in the cold. When the forecast on Thursday night is that it won't get above 0°F until next Tuesday, they feel good that they know they'll survive it when those wimps down south complain about it getting below freezing. Of course, to each other, we complain about the cold all the time. But, bring in an outsider: someone from one of those cities where the place shuts down with 1/2" of snow, and we put up a united front.

"Oh, this is nothing," we say, "You should have been here in the winter of '83. -70°F wind chills in December."

Of course, we've got enough midwestern humility and good sense not to say it too loud, lest some Canuck be within earshot and regale us with stories of the *real* cold in northern Saskatchewan.

But, we take a pretty good sense of satisfaction from knowing that the St. Paul Winter Carnival doesn't stray from their plans until it gets down to 20 below. Heck, the carnival itself is a celebration of this identity. Where else would you get an entire city digging through the snow in ALL of the public places inside the city limits looking for a prize medallion?

When I step outside on a morning like this, and the inside of my nose freezes to itself as ice crystals start forming on my mustache, there's something totally invigorating about pulling air that's 10 degrees below zero into your lungs.

However, with the changes in average winter temperatures here over the last 10 years, some of this sense of identity has eroded. I know our comrades in Moscow definitely feel that erosion as their similar weather has given way to daisies blooming in December.

Not today, though. Because, there, on the horizon, the sun dogs are on the prowl.