by Robert Styles

Created on: June 08, 2008

Old Man Overstays Welcome

Winter in Minnesota begins early. The cool evenings descend quickly when September turns off the furnace of summer. Winds arrive from the heated plains by day. By night, the winds' from the far north begin to awaken and crawl under Autumn's door. Each day becomes shorter as carefree September leads the way to the ice chest for one last drink of lemonade. The sun seems tired.

The softwood trees obey early and begin to get ready for bed. Cottonwoods change the colors on their painters' pallet from green and silver to brilliant yellow leaves dancing a jitterbug in the daylight breeze. The heat of day softens the bright red clothes of the euonymus to a deeper, darker, warmer outfit.

Each day the sky slowly closes in as billowed cumulus comforters become heavy and fall lower attempting to warm the earth from the night's chill. At night the clouds race fast and low to keep warm.

By the first week in October the Oak trees hear the call to undress for bed. Their leaves burn red then brown until they fall to the ice-starched grass below. The cold morning dew paints the Oak bark black like dark coveralls on a balding man. A chill takes up residence and steals summer clothes.

Without warning, if you don't watch the weather channel, the warm air is cast out and an ominous winter dragoon takes over the realm. He comes from the far north and his breath is void of heat. Your shoulders shrink and you cower into your collar as he shouts his greetings. He keeps the dogs of summer far away as his polar bear named Frost sniffs the air, waiting outside the door. The Dragoon's cheeks buldge as he blows hard. His Nordic mustache has ice crystals that drop quickly from the sky freezing everything deep into the ground. Most people in Minnesota enjoy time with anyone, but everyone agrees Old Man Winter overstays his welcome.

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