When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. But standing here among the people of Punxsutawney and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn't imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter.
Okay, campers, rise and shine, and don’t forget your booties ’cause it’s cooooold out there today.
originally published on The Minot Voice: February 2, 2015