On The Mark: It's best to just embrace deep winter head on

We're in a deep freeze. It's beautiful: a bit windy, but gloriously sunny with ample snow. Yet not snowbound. This stretch is a skier, skater and morning walker's heaven.

Walking this Tuesday morning with my neighbor and long-time walking partner June Collman, we compared notes on preparation. Suiting up is a process. Thick handknit wool socks, woven legwarmers, two pairs of long johns, snow pants. Bog boots or hiking boots. A thick pair of mittens covered by mitts, and a third inner layer of gloves in case I have to take a photo, answer my phone or make some outwear adjustments. Four layers on the top half, plus neck warmer, wool scarf, goggles, and two wool hats. For safety, since it's dark at 7 a.m., a head lamp. And since we walk on the rural roads, usually before it's light, a bright chartreuse reflective vest, our warning to drivers and hunters. Estimated prep time: nine minutes.

You might think this is a form of suffering. But it's actually glorious. The gravel roads are crunchy underfoot, the oaks and maples and white pines standing fearlessly clad in their foamy white finery. As the sun rises, its rays creep down from tree crowns to roots. Our amusing shadows stretch for many yards and slowly shorten as we walk west. It's invigorating too, although my toes and fingertips were a bit pained by the time we finished. We've been walking these roads in all seasons for more than 20 years. Winter, despite its dressing demands, is the most magical.

On other of these brilliant sunny and frigid days, I head out on my skis to warm my muscles and breathe in the fresh, spicy air. I venture out in the late afternoon, when the sun is soft and sinking toward the west, slanting a rose glow across the snow. Sometimes I head out on our acreage, down to the beaver dam on a small creek and then out on Flour Lake, where the Tamarack River slows down and spreads out to form a cross-country skier's dream world. I flush a couple of male wild turkeys. I ski along tracks of wolves and coyotes. I am pretty sure the 6-inch-wide belly channels encountered on the lake are made by otters on their morning rounds. Other days, I head out to the more challenging Rogers Lake and Fond du Lac Forest cross-country ski trail for a hilly trek in the very peaceful woods.

Skiing, ice skating, sledding, snowmobiling, four-wheeling ... there are many ways to be with the woods and pastures and rivers this time of year. No bugs, no humidity, no wet feet. Enjoy the experience, especially that warm glow of coming home with a ruddy face.

Ann Markusen is an economist and professor emerita at University of Minnesota. A Pine Knot board member, she lives in Red Clover Township north of Cromwell.