How do you know when winter is coming?
I hear some folks can feel it in their bones. I am not sure how that works. I have no such predictive powers. The only thing my bones tell me is that they are a bit more audibly creaky as I age.
Some folks can tell by the way the local critters are acting. I would think that those who have experience with this type of prediction can likely be fairly accurate. It is not like critters can watch the local weatherman’s report like people can – well perhaps they can, but does Rob Kupec translate to squirrel speak – I am thinking no.
Some folks who have years of experience in the region and can tell which type of events signal the impending winter season. I am on my twelfth year in the state and I am not sure which type of events to be looking for aside from the calendar pages changing.
I do have a failproof indication of when winter is coming though. It is something that must be hardwired into me, but that I just noticed for the first time about five years ago. The one tried and true mechanism by which I know winter is coming is: a burning and unstoppable urge to bake cookies.
Now, there are those who may question the validity of my winter prediction system – I understand your expression of disbelief. If you do not know me you might think this system is silly at best and more likely downright ridiculous; however, those who know me know that baking is not a Carol characteristic. Remember, I am the woman who only owns a kitchen because it came with the house.
Well, low and behold at 2 PM this afternoon the burning and unstoppable urge to bake cookies came upon me. I had just completed the final batch of the more than three dozen peanut butter cookies when the snow started to fly…freaky. Perhaps I am psychic…perhaps my sensitivity and connection to another world is what causes the internal drive to actually enter the kitchen and bake. Perhaps the universe is working through me to help inform others…something akin to the statement, “when hell freezes over”… when Carol bakes “Fargo is about to freeze over.”
I don’t know why God made me this way…I surmise it is “a gift”. I know that doubters will remain, but just wait until next year – you’ll see – it is uncanny the predictive power of my baking. Now I have only to predict how long the output of my “gift” (the three dozen cookies) will linger on my hips if they get past my lips…for that I may need to get out my Magic 8 Ball.
Day ninety-six of the new forty – obla di obla da