The Cold Shoulder

March 9, 2013

The Cold Shoulder

            Long underwear has never been a fashion consideration for me. Even when I saw them in an old movie or in a Three Stooges rerun, I never thought, “Hmm, now there’s a look.”   So finding myself standing in a department store considering the merits of one kind of long underwear over another was a completely novel situation.

            I realized around the end of October that, if I planned to keep walking into the fall and winter, I would have to make some specialized clothing purchases. An acquaintance of mine once camped out in Yellowstone or the Grand Canyon—I forget which—in the dead of winter.  She described how despite all the high-tech equipment her group used, they all slept with small piles of M&M’s on their chests, so they would have a vital source of energy close at hand when uncontrollable shivering woke them periodically throughout the night.  The story was told with much pride in their accomplishment and fortitude, but I never understood the appeal. I had no intention of trudging my way through piles of snow in sub-zero temperatures. I just wanted to be able to maintain my walking routine as far into the winter as comfortably possible, emphasis on comfortably.

            Despite my vision of a derby-wearing Pa Kettle in a heavy, thermal union suit with that handy button flap in the back, the long underwear I ultimately purchased was delightful.  Thin and silky, its sensual, caressing quality was unexpected. It slipped softly over my skin and smoothly under my workout clothes. Frequently after finishing my walk, I would pad around the house in my filmy, winter undergarments just because they felt so good.

            The other apparel I was forced to don against the cold weather was less appealing.  There was too much bulk. After all, my goal was to shrink my silhouette, to move more gracefully and lightly through the world, not to add layers to my frame and shuffle my way down the road.  I didn’t like wearing hats or scarves; my hair kept the first from fitting properly, and the latter made me too warm. Thin gloves didn’t provide enough protection from the cold, and thick ones felt awkward and caused my hands to sweat.  I did purchase a cool pair of earmuffs with built-in headphones for my iPod.  I thought they’d be a perfect way to keep my ears warm and listen to my playlist.  The problem with them was two-fold.  They made my ears too hot, and I couldn’t remove one side to listen for the traffic on my small subdivision street.  I spent most of the cold season adding and dropping various articles of clothing, trying to get the balance just right…without much success.

            Becoming a long john wearer wasn’t the only thing that ended up surprising me about my cold weather walks.  My plan, initially, was to simply endure, to shoulder through the daily challenge because continued walking was necessary for my self-improvement program. I would simply grit my teeth and get through the ordeal each day.  So I was pleasantly surprised when I realized that I was enjoying my chilly strolls. Even though I no longer walked under the vivid, blue skies of summer or surrounded by brilliant autumn colors, like a man comparing the airbrushed picture of a magazine model to the real girl, I came to appreciate the unadorned loveliness of a winter day. There was unexpected beauty in the bare limbs of the trees, in the slate grey skies, and the breathy puffs of vapor that punctuated my climbing. The shapes of distant hills were easier to see, and a lake hidden by foliage in the warmer months was revealed in the cold clarity of winter.

            Although more plentiful in summer, wildlife seemed more noticeable, ironically, in the cold season.  A lone hawk high in a tree was easier to spy with no leaves as camouflage.  Squirrels and rabbits provided entertainment as they scurried around in the thinner underbrush of the season.  Even the occasional deer could be seen wandering through the trees.   When there was snow on the ground, all sorts of tracks were visible.  I recognized the big trident of the turkey and the double half moon print of a deer, but the rest were an interesting mystery.  Just recently as I walked along the highway, a flash of brilliant blue caught my eye, and I watched a bluebird perch on a bare limb.  I laughed aloud as he stared grumpily at me, puffed out his feathers to ward off the cold and became the spitting image of one of those famous Angry Birds.

            So now in these days between the end of winter and the beginning of spring when the tiniest hint of change is showing on the trees, as I reluctantly fold away my silky long johns for the season, I feel a certain nostalgia for my chilly strolls.  Contrary to conventional wisdom, the cold shoulder is lovely and welcoming.