Why so many Minnesotans are longing for a snowy winter

Like the white flakes that flew from the sky in parts of the state Wednesday, thoughts of the first measurable snow in Minnesota can be a swirling whirlwind. It's not just weather for some people. Many Minnesotans, some with an almost childlike glee, anticipate what a fresh landscape in white represents: A tangible sign that winter is finally here.

There'll be snow to move, to play in, to navigate. There are shovels to pull out, or snowblowers to gas up; boots, gloves and snowpants to unearth. Ski bases and snowboard edges command new attention, as does the toboggan in the garage rafters.

"We are like little kids. We are ready," said Minnesota Department of Natural Resources senior climatologist Kenny Blumenfeld.

For some, the wait has felt too long. Last winter was one of the warmest and most snow-free ever. Parts of northern Minnesota average more than 70 inches in winter, but Duluth only had about 39 inches. The metro's total was just 29½ inches, according to the Minnesota Climatology Office at the DNR, and most areas in the state saw 30 to 70 days after Dec. 1, 2023, with nothing on the ground. The memory makes the prospect of a substantial snowfall extra-charged this year, especially for those whose recreational and working lives are intimately linked to weather.

"A lot of us start craving it. It's almost instinctive. We are feeling ready for that change," Blumenfeld said. "Snow is a great way to bring it about because it redesigns the landscape."

Winter piles up fond memories for his colleague Pete Boulay, too, who recalled as a kid recognizing the winter's quiet before big snowstorms and listening to the weather radio. "There is always that anticipating for the first snow, and if you don't have that first snow and it's past Thanksgiving, it starts to get a little depressing. You start realizing we lost a chunk of winter already," he said.

Snow piling up

Author and writer Ryan Rodgers has been around his family's 10 acres north of Lester Park in Duluth going through seasonal routine. There is firewood to cut, for example, foretelling what also is on his mind: snowfall. If the wood pile doesn't get split, it gets buried.

Rodgers is anticipating the change on the land. After a big snow, especially on sunny days, he might head to a favorite spot on his property: a hammock. Ringed in fall with dense raspberry cane and other vines and below birch trees, the location is exposed in winter with views in all directions.

Burning wood or one of his big slash piles comes uniquely alive in snow.

"It's always fun burning the piles when snow is on the ground. It takes a while to get them going," Rodgers said. "Once they get burning, the heat rises up and it'll shake the branches overhead. That snow will fall down into the fire and sizzle and subliminate and rise up as steam."

Rodgers' love of snow is evident in his written words, too, such as his 2021 book, "Winter's Children: A History of Nordic Skiing." He refuses to hand-wring over winters like the last one, preferring to stay in the moment and continue to find joy in the beauty from his hammock or in that fire during snowfall.

"I just try to come to terms with that cold, snowy winters ending is a fact," he said, "and enjoying them as much as possible when they are here."

Early excitement

Ben Popp can relate to Boulay's youthful excitement ("I'm like a 7-year-old on Christmas Day"). As he should: Popp runs one of the most popular cross-country ski races in the world and the biggest in North America every February in Cable, Wis. Thousands of Minnesotans compete year after year.

In 2023, the American Birkebeiner relied mainly on machine-made snow to produce its prestigious race. Olympic gold medalist Jessie Diggins was among the thousands of participants contained to a 10-kilometer loop of artificial snow to get in their ski marathons.

Popp remains joyful at the thought of snowfall, but whether it's a deluge or 17 inches, like last year, he said his focus still is creating a great experience for the legions who show up.

"If we don't get 100 inches of snow, we can still create an experience that draws people in and shapes their lives," he said. "It's important to them and to us and our community."

That ski community is starting to adapt to the idea that traditional snowfall is history, he added, and that the Birkie, and Nordic skiing in general, must evolve.

The crowds and excitement at the World Cup races at Theodore Wirth Regional Park a week before the Birkie indicated that the sport's excitement hasn't ebbed, even if it is in an alternative form, Popp said. "If we love skiing, let's embrace what the evolution might be — that is the mentality that we have started to take."

He'll get no challenge from Dylan Korman. The freestyle skier from Bloomington works and plays at Hyland Hills Ski Area. While the young man has grown accustomed to throwing down K-Fed rail tricks and Misty 540s on machine-made snow, he welcomes the real thing.

"I get super excited when I see the first snowflakes," said Korman, who is a guest services employee when he's not in his bindings. Those flakes indicate winter, which reminds him of where he'll spend his time in some capacity over the next several months.

Korman's parents had him in skis in the third grade. He vividly remembered the lights at night, the snow, the dark chill — a scene easy to romanticize.

"I remember my dad teaching me on the bunny hill, and I was immediately so pulled in by it. I just kept going back," he said.

Popp's excitement at the idea of snow is unabated despite mercurial weather in recent years.

"Let's keep doing our snow dances," Popp said. "The possibilities that [a big snowfall] exude are so core to the winter experience in the Midwest."