Minnesotans have a rather irritating tendency to pride themselves on being able to tolerate all sorts of winter weather. (I must admit at the outset that I’ve lived in Minnesota all my life and am hardly an exception.) We delight in warning newcomers of the harsh winters they will face, secretly hoping that if they can’t handle the winters then maybe they’ll leave. We grumble the first few snowfalls of the season, faced with people who suddenly can’t remember how to drive. We mock those poor souls in warmer climes — you know, the ones who normally have to deal with things like hurricanes — who run for cover when the temperature dips below 40 (Fahrenheit) or a half-inch of snow falls. “You call that cold? Try 30 below!” (That’s -34.4 for you sensible folks who think in Celsius).

This excessive pride is usually accompanied by an equally irritating tendency to complain about the weather. Yes, we pride ourselves on the weather we face, but we’re not happy about it. If it’s sunny too long, we gripe about our lawns not getting the water they need. If it snows, we bitch about having to shovel. If it rains, we can’t wait for the sun. (By no means do I think that any of this is unique to Minnesotans. I’m just saying.)

I long ago tired of this meterological machismo and have tried to excise it from my behavior. I decided a few years back that things would be a whole lot easier and I’d be a more pleasant human being if I just plain liked weather. Doesn’t matter whether it rains or shines, sleets or snows, I like it. I don’t grit my teeth and bear it, I don’t sneer disdainfully at those who can’t handle it, I just like it. Or at least I try. Weather is a delightful reminder that I am alive in the world.

Nevertheless, I have to admit that I’ve felt somewhat cheated by the mild winter we’ve been having. It just doesn’t seem right when it’s hovering around 10F/-12C there’s no snow on the ground. It goes against a lifetime of expectations. So boy oh boy, am I glad to see that we’re finally getting some snow. Snow!