Last week, the weather seemed to take a certain sadistic delight in reminding us that winter will be here soon. This happens every year. The leaves fall, we enjoy the delightfully clear weather of October--the kind of weather which makes you forget that it is actually 30 decrees colder outside than in.

Then, the God of Weather (I think his name is Paul ) scratches his chin, furrows his brow, and decides that we need a reminder of what it means to be Minnesotan.

Wham!

Last week, we came off a period of unseasonably beautiful weather right into our first major winter storm. We had an inch or so of snow (Just a taste of things to come, cackles Old Man Winter), and the temperature plummeted. The sky wore its grey cloak all week. Remarkably enough, for the first snow of the season, it actually stuck to the ground for several days.

The weekend brought some relief, with two days of sunshine, and very comfortable temperatures (that's highs in the 40's for you southerners).

Today, though, the gloomy pall is back. It keeps looking like it will snow, but never does. With sunset before 5 PM, the constant clouds give us the sense of living in a netherworld, a sort of meteorological purgatory where we're not quite sure what we've done, but by golly we're going to get punished for it.

Snow, despite the inherent sloppiness, would be a relief. Snow has an aesthetic all its own, a sparking magic that purifies the landscape.

This darkness is very typical for Minnesota in November. By January, we'll be into the heart of winter, which brings days so cold and clear that breathing is like drinking frozen vodka. In January, the world is painted in three colors: crystalline white, tree-trunk brown, and dazzling sapphire blue. On those days, being outside feels like walking through a planet in suspended animation, just waiting for Mr. Spock to figure out how to revive what must have once been a verdant green world. Not so far from the truth, actually.

This year, the cold weather came a day or two after the first snowfall, so the pond behind out house froze in a perfectly smooth sheet overnight. Most years, the pond freezes during a snowstorm, which makes for lumpy, pebbly ice. When it freezes like it did this year, however, the ice is better than anything you can make with a Zamboni. Assuming, of course, that it doesn't first melt, and then re-freeze during a snowstorm.

Scooter hasn't been ice skating yet, but this might be the year to get him started. Once the ice is a few inches thick, we may give that a try.