Walking in freezing wind ranks up there with those things I’d rather not endure. So today, as the winter wind whipped against my home and cracked the bare branches, I considered how surely, the Danish Grandmother was incorrect to say “There’s no bad weather, just bad clothing.”
She’d walk in this. She’d probably even enjoy it somehow.
Shall I walk in this?
I wrap myself in scarves and a big hat so only my eyes peek out. I venture forth for an hour. I find I’m completely comfortable, toasty even, in the winter wind. I actually feel rather defiant as it comes against me.
By the end of the walk as I saw my house rise up in the distance, I felt sorry to leave the crisp air. I thought of the wind as carrying fresh oxygen, fresh insight, fresh momentum.
I felt aired out like an old mattress that seems new with a dose of clean, cold air.
I shall walk again in even worse weather.