If the snowshoe fits

Let’s get this straight: I hate winter. There is nothing to like about this God-forsaken season. There are no mitigating factors that make it slightly acceptable. And this particular psychoses-inducing winter has only served to reinforce my dislike. But, that’s OK. I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual.

I can think of nothing good about this particular season. And the fact that it encroaches upon the other seasons just makes it worse. Could we please have a spring again? When did spring get taken off the calendar? And why? The last few years seem to be winter, extended winter, more winter, mud season, a couple of weeks of summer, about the same for fall and right back to winter again.

If forced to scrape out a silver lining for winter, I suppose I could come up with a few. If I go grocery shopping, I can leave the food in the car all day and nothing will go bad. (Then again, a pound of frozen deli meat is not very appetizing when it finally thaws.) Expectations are lowered. No one expects you to have a clean car or dress in anything resembling fashion — unless your fashion advisors are Inuits.

Other than that? Not much.

But, I have always said if we have to live in this region, we might as well make peace with winter and make the best of it.

My approach to making the best of winter for the last dozen or so years was to escape it. I went to Florida for six or seven weeks each winter to cover spring training. I highly recommend the escape approach. Nothing better than dealing with winter by calling home and saying, “Everything OK?” (Just a hint: It doesn’t go over well when you tell the people at home that it’s cold in Florida, too, because it got below 70 and you had to put on a long-sleeve shirt.)

But with a new job this year, I’ve had to improvise. When we got through to almost the end of January with almost no snow, I thought, this isn’t so bad.

And then … someone hit the snow button and has yet to let up on it.

First there was acceptance. Then denial. Then anger. Then all-out, unmitigated yougottabekiddingme exasperation.

And, then, finally… capitulation … submission … surrender.

So, on Sunday morning I headed out with some friends to go snowshoeing in Lynn Woods. This just happened to be on the meteorological first day of spring. (Whatever the heck that is. I have never heard that term before this year. Did someone just make it up to make us all feel better? ‘Hey, it’s meteorological spring! Yippee!’ Who cares if it was 14 degrees.)

I love Lynn Woods. It is an absolutely beautiful place at any time of year. It is one of the best-kept secrets on the North Shore. (Shhh! Don’t tell anyone.) Whoever had the foresight all those years ago to protect it from development knew what they were doing and we should all thank them.

But most of the time I’ve spent in Lynn Woods over the last few years has been in summer or fall, even winter minus the snow. This was the first time in a long time I had been there in a full-on winter, the first time in a long time I had gone snowshoeing, and the first time I had gone snowshoeing in Lynn Woods.

We started at the Pennybrook Road entrance, where our communing with nature began when we were greeted by a very large turkey standing in the middle of the round, guarding the entrance. He eventually — slowly — decided to move along and let us in.

We hiked for about two hours, went up to the Lemon Squeeze and Stone Tower. Tried a few new trails we hadn’t been on before — not deliberately; it’s surprising how different landmarks look buried beneath 100 inches of snow. We only met up with about 10 other hikers while we were there and about half as many dogs.

The hike had us working our heart rates so the 14-degree temp when we started out didn’t bother us too much. (Seriously? Fourteen degrees?! On the first day of meteorological spring?!)

It was absolutely beautiful. If you have to be surrounded by snow, it might as well be nearly pristine and not covered by soot and grime.

The only sounds we could hear were the birds and the snow crunching under our footsteps. And our breathing. It was a good workout.

Strangely, the turkey and the dogs were the only wildlife we encountered.

It was peaceful. It was cathartic. It was beautiful. Maybe communing with nature on a frigid winter morning isn’t so bad.

If you haven’t been to Lynn Woods this winter, I highly recommend it. If you have to live here, where winter is ruthless and unrelenting, you might as well make the best of it.

But, I still recommend the escape approach. Even if it’s only in your mind.

Maureen Mullen can be reached at mmullen@itemlive.com. Follow her on Twitter at @MaureenAMullen.