A few years back, I finally realized why it doesn’t snow as much as it did when I was back in the second grade—nothing to do with climate change. I am taller than I was 58 years ago. Hmm, now that’s quite a revelation.

This February may be making me rethink my height. The weather has been brutal, with snow levels on the parkways reaching 2.5 feet, and drifts towering high above the cars trapped within. While the snow is the visible manifestation of the storms originating high above the Pacific, the cold is what drives me back into the house. Somehow what should be westerly winds originate from the east, blowing off Lake Michigan, rushing down the side streets. Lou Rawls famously dubbed Chicago’s winds the Hawk. This February, the Hawk has been unleashed with a vengeance.

On my photographic outings, I’ve managed to avoid its chill, except on the tips of my fingers. It is difficult to operate a camera wearing gloves, so I am constantly removing my gloves, jamming my naked hands in my jacket pocket, and then returning my fingers to the gloves, fumbling with the camera in-between these gyrations. Eventually, I lose the battle. About 2.5 hours is my limit. Making things worse, there are very few open restaurants, hotels, and stores to take momentary refuge in, which actually may be for the best. Drink a hot cup of Starbucks Vente Espresso, and it isn’t cold fingers that forces me back indoors. The espresso just runs right through me.

I have been surprised by the absence of people outside. Usually there are more people on cross country skis or sledding in the park, but not this year. The streets are largely empty. I have also been surprised by the lack of Chicago Dibs—the time-honored tradition of digging your car out of a parking spot, and then leaving a lawn chair or some other piece of household trash to mark your spot. So far, I’ve only seen only one call for dibs. Truth be told, most cars haven’t left their on-street parking spots because the side streets are pretty bad.

In walking around my neighborhood, I’ve come to appreciate the property owners who shovel their walks, although trudging through 2.5-foot snow drifts eliminates the need for a session with my spin bike.

Despite the minor discomforts, winter is definitely the best time of year. There is nothing like highly visible weather and the resulting drama, particularly if you have a warm couch, Netflix, and multiple layers of sheets and blankets covering the bed. You gotta love the long nights.

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