Snow has been scarce this winter, but frigid air has been plentiful. Many days it’s been served up with a stiff northwest breeze. I’ve kept walking along the frost-hard trails and through the grit that accumulates along the side of the roads. I’ve done it for my sanity, to thumb my nose at the season — and to soak up whatever mood-altering sunlight I can.

It was 7 degrees this morning when I woke up. Seven! Seven makes a lovely time, age or chapter. But not temperature.

These chilly days remind me of my years in Chicago. Seven degrees above zero was balmy in that city. One day I learned after I’d already left for work that the school where I taught was closed for the day. It was 21 degrees below zero (actual temperature, not wind chill). I’d grown so accustomed to the cold that I hadn’t wondered why everyone was running, not walking, down the street.

It was winter that drove me from that city. Winters can do that, you know.