Winter

The other night I walked my dog over to a little park on Monticello Street at around 11 pm. It had to be about 5°F or so, and I was reminded why I love winter so much.

In the park there was about 15” or more of virgin snow. No one had been there for days. I had my big Sorel boots on and my long johns under my clothes, so I was up for a bracing plunge down the park trail. It is something else to break trail – to walk in the heart of Chicago in a place no one has touched. It is sweet and purifying and exhilarating to breathe the coldness of the air and see the sharpness of the stars and feel the bite of the wind on my face.

Perhaps the most amazing thing about the deep cold is the remarkable experience of having the city to myself. Nobody was out. No drivers, no gangbangers, no pit bulls to make my Yellow Lab nuts. On every street I walked down to get to the park – and back – it was just me and my dog. The cold quiet was enveloping and comforting and life giving. Think of it: In the ‘hood at night with no noise and no crowds and no concerns – just the cold and snow and quiet.

God knows my soul’s love for the wilderness. However, that is a life I am not called to. So He gives me a little piece of it once in awhile in the most unexpected of places.