To overstate the obvious, winter contains two basic things – dark, and cold. One momentous early human discovery dealt with both of these obstacles to life. That was fire. This advance brought on more than light and warmth. Soon there was cooking, competition for the best spot, and singing around the campfire. Today, we have many ways of dealing with winter that do not involve gathering wood or buffalo chips, or finding the correct rocks to bash together to make sparks.

Still, the cold and the dark are there, and they have an effect on our activities. One of those effects seems to be a shrinking of our range. For many of us, the cold and dark lead to a concentration on home, school, and work, indoor stuff. This is not a bad attitude; winter can be a good time to get things done. Such as writing. I realize that becoming a Snowbird has caused a forfeiture of my winter season opinion privileges. And it is difficult for me to comment on all of you going through your zero temperature, dark-thirty lives. Lounging among the palm trees is no atmosphere for writing about blizzards. But I have not migrated quite yet. There is early snow on the Bridgers and piles of leaves in the yard.

Also, I feel that spending the last two Christmas seasons in Montana, both for a month, has allowed me to retain a modicum of expertise. That, and the previous 40 winters before those two more recent sojourns. Both years were Holiday family reunions. During those fun and fleeting times I noticed that our outdoor range had also diminished. Our kids who live in New Zealand were craving White Christmases and cross-country ski trails. Our kids who live in Bozeman work and play at Bridger Bowl, their natural commute. All of us spend much of our time on outdoor activities. Yet, in winter we go about them in a more restrained manner.

Since this is Montana, the first year there were two days when Bridger was closed due to extreme cold, and the second year we were raking leaves on December 23rd. Luckily, we are all seasoned Montanans and we were able to persevere and enjoy the extremes and wait for more normal winter weather.

Our two go-to venues for Nordic skiing are Bridger Creek Golf Course and the Lindley area. During our Holiday visits we tried to ski every day. This was a challenge the first year, when the temperatures were regularly -20 degrees, and the second year, when there was very little snow. The solution was winter precaution and winter flexibility, two different things. The same mentality that caused us to reduce our range made us prepare more for venturing into it.

These preparations involved gear, and upgrading and replacing gear involves shopping. Hey, it was Christmas. Many of Bozeman’s outdoor gear shops are right in town, and there are plenty of choices. We indulged ourselves. I have always said that I hate shopping, but have discovered that as long as the purchases are for someone else, I love it. I envy those who can make a stop or two and make a decision. It might take me a month of mental contemplation just to arrive at the store.

There were days when the entire ski outing lasted just over an hour, but felt much longer. Warm up the truck, drive across town, set up the gear, sprint off on the trail. Below zero temperatures turn anyone into an Olympian. We were tearing around the loops faster than we would have thought possible. Easing into a rhythm, the first signs of perspiration under many layers is a sign to head back to the truck, then make the drive home for a hot drink. Of course, a slight malfunction, a thin mitten or a chilly ear might require another gear outing. Repeat on the following day.

As in most things, one of the memorable parts of the winter routine is when we break out of it. A drive to Hyalite to hike, fish, or boat in the summer is a fun but not exactly unusual outing. When friends arrived to see the kids from down under, we drove to Hyalite to introduce the visitors, who were unfamiliar with snow, to snowshoeing — an unforgettable expedition. As the host, I was able to combine the memories of decades of trips along the winding road next to the creek with seeing the place through the eyes of those who had never been in the Rocky Mountains. That is a great combination. We were rewarded with an inversion that gave us 25 degrees above zero at the reservoir, when it had been much colder in town.

During the year of little snow, someone suggested a West Yellowstone adventure. Again, in summer or fall this would be fairly routine. In December, it seemed arctic. We ended up going twice; the roads were fine. We skied in Yellowstone Park and at the Nordic Center, strolled through town, and warmed up at the bakery/bookstore with hot drinks and pastries. The town that in another season would be just down the road seemed to be a far off world.

Part of the beauty of Bozeman is that it contains amenities that make winter more bearable, even enjoyable, as our environs shrink both physically and mentally. The university, the library, the downtown shops and restaurants, the in-town ski venues and parks, the fitness centers, the North 19th and Cannery District businesses… Bozeman is self-contained. It is actually a hub for other communities, near and far. Though it is possible to venture away to those seemingly faraway worlds, it is perfectly reasonable to remain in town and live contentedly in our busy bubble.

There are times when even the living space in the house shrinks. Lamplight and firelight become important before 5 p.m. There is that back bedroom shut away for heat retention in the rest of the house, but more likely because it is far from those heat and light sources. We gather near the woodstove in the family room, or at the kitchen table while something warm and pleasant bakes in the oven. When I was a kid, my Mom switched the living and dining rooms by the season, deciding on the smaller, cozier one for the winter. Moving the furniture back and forth was our seasonal statement. We all used a lighter, quicker step walking through the dim, cool areas to reach the well-lit rooms.

It requires a stout heart to venture outside to start the truck or bring in firewood from the frigid gloom. The best part of that is returning to the warm center and receiving praise from those who did not make the journey. Another short but sharp excursion. Song lyrics come to mind: Bruce Springsteen singing about stepping out onto the front porch, sucking the cold air deep inside. John Denver telling us of a fire softly burning and supper on the stove.

Last year, we cleared the yard of leaves. The following day, December 24th, it snowed. I was immediately reminded of a Christmas Eve nearly 50 years ago in the Midwest. I was walking home from work in the twilight, bemoaning the lack of snow, when I felt the first flakes on my cheeks. It was just an inch that night but it made all the difference.

Summoning those memories is easy. The Holiday season is concentrated in space by the weather of winter. It is also made that way by time. A couple of weeks during which our experiences are short, sweet, and easily called back from the past, not just to recall but to enhance the current times. Continuing traditions by repeating them in new ways and in new years begins to sound pretty good. Maybe I should get online with Allegiant Air and book a long weekend in Bozeman. We already have a nice place to stay.

What winter provides for us are challenges and contrasts. What it requires is a concentration on basics. There are extremes that put us on alert. There are small victories and small rewards. These can be unique, though, remembered in December but tedious by March. At least by then there is renewed light.

By the way, Bridger Creek, Sunset/Lindley and quite a few other ski trails are maintained by the Bridger Ski Foundation, grooming all winter; please contribute. Also, shopping in town for gear (or anything) is a great experience. The act of entering a store from the cold and dark into the warm and festive is way better than ordering stuff by pushing buttons on your phone.