THE SCENT OF A WINTER (IN THE MIDWEST)

There is nothing to compare with the smell of winter. Nothing. I know this for a fact now, since this is my second consecutive year without one. When you live with seasons as distinct as ours in Minnesota, you see the almost daily changes that take place in a year of constant movement towards the next season.

I have been longing, lately, for the olfactory treat that one gets upon stepping out of doors from a warm house, early in the morning, as snow softly falls. It is almost the absence of smell, a cleanse of anything that lingered as you inhale the heaven-sent freshness.

A winter day in northern climes is unmatched in its delivery of sense stimulants. The lonely whistle of a distant train, the crunch of snow underfoot, a predawn rooster crowing his wakeup call. A splash of red on pure whiteness as a cardinal dips furtively at the birdfeeder, stars twinkling in a black velvet midnight sky, icicles dripping rhythmically on the porch during a January thaw. Warm wooly mittens keeping the cold at bay, fur against your chin getting damp with your breath as you soar down the path on cross country skis, a blast of wind taking your breath away. Strapping on snowshoes for a peek at the woodpile on the east edge of the pasture, pulling a sled with a laughing child over mountainous drifts.

The tastes I long for are hot chocolate by the fire, hearty oatmeal bubbling in a pot on the stove, cinnamon buns baking in the oven, a pot of stew simmering all morning, steaming up the kitchen windows.

As I age, I love being warm, not worrying about slipping on icy sidewalks, not driving in blinding snowstorms, avoiding ditches. I don’t long for dreary days, freezing rain or staggering heating bills. There is an upside to being absent for the rigors of the season.

But winter ends. And melts into spring. And with that comes a whole new array of tantalizing aspects. The Midwest delivers a veritable smorgasbord in more ways than one, every day of the year.

CHILLY MORNING OATMEAL BAKE

3 cups quick oats

1 cup brown sugar

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon cinnamon

2 eggs

1 cup milk

1/2 cup butter, melted

In a large bowl, combine oatmeal, brown sugar, baking powder, salt and cinnamon. In another bowl, whisk eggs, milk and butter. Stir into oat mixture. Spoon into a greased 9 inch square baking pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 40-45 minutes. Serve warm with milk.

COZY NIGHT WINTER STEW

4 boneless skinless chicken breasts

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 onion, chopped

1-1/4 cup chicken broth

4 ounces diced green chilies

1 teaspoon garlic powder

1 teaspoon cumin

1/2 teaspoon cilantro

15 ounces great northern beans, drained

2 green onions, chopped

2 ounces shredded cheese

In a large saucepan, heat oil and cook chicken breasts with onion. Stir in broth, chilies, garlic powder, cumin and cilantro. Reduce heat and simmer for 15 minutes. Stir in beans and cook for 40 minutes more. Garnish each bowl with green onion and cheese.

SNOW MOUNTAIN CINNAMON BUNS

1 packet yeast

1/2 cup warm water

1 teaspoon sugar

1 cup milk

1/2 cup butter

1/4 teaspoon salt

3 cups flour

2 teaspoons cinnamon

1/4 cup sugar

In a glass measuring cup, combine yeast, warm water and 1 teaspoon sugar. Let yeast proof until bubbly. In a large saucepan, heat milk and butter until warm.

In a large mixing bowl, combine yeast and milk and butter mixture. Add flour gradually, stirring with each 1/2 cup added. Dough will be sticky. Transfer dough to a flour covered board and knead for several minutes until dough is smooth and elastic. Place back in bowl. Cover and let rise for about 1 hour or until doubled in size. On a lightly floured surface, roll dough out into a thin rectangle. Brush with butter and top with mixture of cinnamon and sugar. Starting at one end, tightly roll dough and place seam side down. Cut into 2 inch slices and place in a well-buttered 8 by 8 square or round pan. Brush with melted butter and cover. Set in a warm place to rise again. Bake at 350 degrees for 25 to 30 minutes. Glaze with a mixture of powdered sugar and milk or leave plain.

DREAMS

At first I blamed the late night dinners. Then the tropical climate. Next I targeted the hotel pillows. Or could it be the street lights? Sirens? Finally, I toyed with the thought that maybe becoming a grandmother again had me in a state of mental flux...

I'm still not sure how to pinpoint the cause of my crazy dreams for the past 2 months but, night after night, I spun one after the other and awoke feeling overwhelmed, amazed, confused, disturbed, enchanted.

My dreams usually involved much family, both dead and alive, and there was never a moment when it was carefree or relaxing. No, instead each escapade was fraught with turmoil, exhausting labor, conundrum after conundrum to solve and never solid solutions to any of them.My parents starred in almost every one, my long deceased brother Dan paid a call at least once or twice, my husband, my children and even my pets. Oddly, my two grandchildren, upon which I was consumed the entire time I was visiting Miami, never entered my dreams at all.

The most memorable dream for me began at the farm where I grew up. It was approaching dusk and it appeared a storm was on the horizon. I was standing in a plowed field east of the house and near the old red granary which had been torn down decades ago. My Dad was driving a tractor towards the yard. My Mom appeared in the kitchen window and I was suddenly transported to the lawn as the ground began heaving and cracking. Suddenly, the walls of the house were laid flat, I saw my brothers, even long gone Dan, surround my Mom. Dad and I were attempting to make it it the house. We were separated by islands of land suspended in sky. Somehow we made it, Dad and I and the rest of my family clutched at each other around the old dining room table. When I looked at the floor, I was struck by the carpet. It was the very first wall to wall carpeting my parents had installed in the late 1960's when braided rugs over hardwood maple floors seemed way behind the times.


I'm not sure if I woke up then and rolled over for more adventure or if this was a seamless segue, but my next episode found me at my farm at Cricket Meadow. I was walking through the house with my cousin Cindy and her husband Greg. They were caretakers for me at the farm while I was away and were were trying to solve the dilemma of a foot of water standing in each room. Cindy was wearing a long black wool coat, adorned with a rhinestone pin and had her makeup all in place, including glossy pink lips. Greg was decked in a navy suit and tie. I have no idea what I was wearing, but I was deeply concerned about their feet getting wet. As we pondered the water issue, we bumped into my Mom in the kitchen. She was trying hard to make a stack of antique plates stand propped against the wall of my counter, but they kept crashing and clattering out of place. At that moment, my eye was drawn to a life-sized ceramic figurine of a Victorian lady being moved across the room, by whom and to where, I'm not sure. Finally, we made our way upstairs to the master bedroom and bath but it looked nothing like what I remembered. While I was trying to get my bearings, all of a sudden, my foot was bleeding and two of Cindy and Greg's grown sons, Graham and Colin, rushed to my aid. But blood was leaving my body so fast, we soaked towel after towel in an attempt to staunch the flow. And then I woke up.

Night after night, I was on one Alice in Wonderland adventure after another. It left me scratching my head each morning and trying to make some sense of the collection of images floating through my mind as I remembered them.

I have been home for almost a week now and haven't had or remembered a dream since.