When the polar vortex dips your way

When a frozen mist rises above the river and a thick layer of ice stretches over the churning water, you start to worry about the ducks.

I saw one yesterday, bouncing along in the Fox River. Its excited quacks were a little hard to read. “Woo hoo look at me!” or “For the love of all things feathered, get me out of here!”

I watched until I couldn’t feel my face and then I wished him luck and scurried on my way.

I’d like to think ducks are hardier than they appear. I know they’re hardier than I am.

When the morning air sucks the breath right out of your lungs and cancels school for the day, you conduct a little science test anyway. You and your young charge toss some boiling water in the air and watch it turn to crystals as it floats back toward the ground.

“Now you know it’s cold,” you say. But the real wind chill indicator is the actual winter coat the young man wears without complaint.

When the wind whips your car window so hard your eyes water when you roll it down, you hope the older woman working the drive-thru doesn’t get frostbite when she sticks her bare hand out to collect your money.

“Stay warm!” you say, which isn’t very helpful at all. So, you add a little extra to the tip.

You pull on some extra layers when the polar vortex dips your way. You console yourself with kindness and the knowledge that even frozen seasons are finite.

The Summer Solstice is just 149 days away.