Here comes the sun...
A few mornings ago, I climbed the stairs headed in the direction of breakfast. There was a faint glimmer of light on the eastern horizon and I found myself singing, “Little darling, it’s been a long cold winter, but here comes the sun....”
It was a little optimistic, what with it being January 2. While the sun may be shining, it’s only visible for about six hours a day. Even so, it’s a good song no matter the season, so I gave myself a pass.
Then a few days later I was driving down the road in silence, because I was too lazy to reach over and push the radio button. After a time, the silence was broken by me, singing, “...Summertime, and the living is easy...”
In all fairness, it’s probably the best song in my repertoire. I feel my interpretation, some might say song stylings, bring a depth of feeling not often heard. Having said that, it is, you know, still January.
There’s a chance I’m over winter and ready for what’s next.
A story that everyone who knows me is tired of hearing involves me being at a conference and being seated with a climatologist from Iowa State. In the course of random dinnertime conversation, he found out where I lived and got very excited, because, in his words, “Do you realize that where you live and the Ural Mountains in Siberia have the worst weather in the world?”
I hadn’t known that, and in all honesty, it’s information I probably could have done without. He went on to explain that there are places hotter and colder, but there is no place that gets as hot or as cold, and where the wind blows as much.
Learning the details did not make me feel better. Although, I suppose there’s some comfort in knowing that if the Russians ever captured me and threatened me with being sent to Siberia, I would be okay not taking the threat too seriously.
The odd part is that as my life has gotten easier, my dislike of being wet and cold has only increased. I have vivid memories of coming in after a long day of caring for livestock, climbing in the shower and being so cold that the water running off my body was ice cold by the time it reached the drain. I remember icicles in my beard and being too stiff to bend over to unlace my work boots. I remember a January thaw was just an opportunity to haul endless loads of manure and chip away ice from around hog waterers. Now when I look out at an uncertain landscape, I can shrug and spend the day watching old movies. If I’m feeling really ambitious, I’ll spend the day in my woodshop or greenhouse. To be honest, summertime isn’t when the living is easy – there’s too much to do. Winter is really the time when my life is about as easy as a life can be.
Today the sun isn’t shining, and it’s not summertime. But the living is easy, easy enough, and even though the sun isn’t shining, I know it’s there.
And that’s enough.
Copyright 2026 Brent Olson
Loved your take on you and the western Minnesota winters. Though our Southern Illinois winters are nothing compared to yours, a lot of people say that they hate winter. I feel differently about it. I look at it as a time of rest for me and nature ( except the bids have it pretty rough, but they could fly south if they really wanted to). There is always so much that needs doing on our small, "non-profit" farm- pastures to mow, weed whacking needed doing, kitchen garden to care for, plants to water, and other projects that need doing. I feel guilty just doing nothing on the "to do list."
In the winter I can kick back and read, fool around, whatever and feel okay with that. I think I'll skip Siberia, though.
KC - Southern Illinois