Beware the False Spring

And the word of the year: Neighboring.

Just like other parts of the country, in February and March, Minnesota experiences “False Spring,” followed by “Second Winter,” “Third Winter,” and “Spring of Deception.” These temporary, unseasonably warm spells play big tricks on plants that start to bud early and become vulnerable, animals that are lured from safety, and me.

I should know better. I check the forecast. I have a brain. But I keep falling for False Spring.

It’s just that I’m so ready for the snow to: Get. Out. Of. Here. I’m ready for Northeast Farmers Market to open so I can pick up a gorgeous bouquet of flowers from the Hmong farmers, and buy a big basil plant for summer salads. I want to take the tarp off my patio furniture and read a book on my porch with my morning coffee.

But before the seasons completely change, I need to say thank you… to the snow.

When Sunlight Fails, You Need the Snow

US Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis famously said: Sunlight is the best disinfectant. It’s literally true – My Mom’s secret trick for removing stains from Tupperware was to lay them outside to bathe in sun. It’s also figuratively true: Transparency is the best way to eliminate bad conduct.

But what happens when the institutions that typically serve as rays of transparent, disinfecting sunshine – society’s accountability levers – fail to do their job? When governmental officials boldly lie? When investigations into misconduct never occur? When corporate leaders deliver milquetoast statements? When press and news media fail to serve as crucial checks on power?

That’s when you need the snow.

I admit I’m naive about snow. I don’t shovel it. I don’t drive much in it. As a newer Minnesotan, snow is still magical. It creates an illuminating landscape that reflects light. I highly prefer it over the squirrelly-brown-greyness of a frigid, snowless day. Snowy backdrops make it easy to spot movement, track animals, and distinguish the invaders. Snow makes you slow down, stop, and pay attention.

When sunlight is obscured. It needs more ways to reflect light to shine brighter. In the absence of transparency, I’m convinced sunlight needs snow. During these cold, snowy Minnesota days, the people of the snow have been a disinfecting power. Each snowflake comes together to illuminate wrongdoing.

And in this context, “snowflake” isn’t a pejorative; it’s a force to be reckoned with.

Chad Davis, CC BY 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

A popular saying on social media: “ICE committed the classic Nazi mistake: They invaded a winter people in the winter.”

I’ve been in awe of the Minnesotans and the creativity of resistance – groups like comics, bakers, drummers, singers, protesting ICE occupation — all in their unique ways. I’m in awe of the neighborhood groups and underground networks addressing the basic needs of the vulnerable. I’m aware there are so many who cannot be heralded, because visibility to their efforts risk the well-being of others. And I’m in awe of those who regularly weathered negative-degree temperatures to participate in the power of protest.

I can attest: it’s not the layers of clothing that kept protestors warm. It’s the camaraderie that breaks through the cold – as long as you keep on walking. It’s only when you stop that you feel the cold.

Beware the False Spring

We experienced False Spring a month or so ago just as ICE announced it was pulling out. And yet the violence continued. White House Border Czar Tom Homan had announced the conclusion of “Operation Metro Surge.” But those close to the action didn’t see the drawdown then, as much as a change in strategy to fanned-out places.

As it gets warmer, reports are that ICE tactics are still morphing. More blending in. More women agents and officers of color. More infiltration of community and chat groups. Less camo, more denim and baseball hats. More mimicry of tradespeople and volunteers.

On Instagram, I follow journalists Georgia Fort and Lee Stedman among others. Stedman reports ICE activity is still high with drone activity deployed across the state. They are being more discreet. They are not drawing back. I also follow Teri Leigh 💜 here on Substack. She recently shared ICE is now putting bags over the heads of detainees, treating them like war hostages. These individuals keep information flowing.

Now as the snow melts, I fear we’re falling for the False Spring again. Sometimes it’s easier to believe a big lie because we want so badly for things to be different. We want to put our winter coats away, go to the farmers market, and sit on the porch drinking coffee.

Beware the False Spring that takes advantage of our weaknesses.

The Word of the Year: Neighboring

I know it’s only March, but I’m calling it. The word of the year is: Neighboring.

Neighboring describes a hyperlocal grassroots form of resistance. It’s about ordinary citizens acting to protect the people on their block, in their building, or in their immediate community. “I’m not an activist, I’m just looking out for my neighbor.”

Researchers are starting to name what many of us have been living. Daniel Cueto-Villalobos, a doctoral candidate at the University of Minnesota who studies race, religion, and social movements, shares how neighborhood groups can be traced back to networks formed during the pandemic and in the aftermath of George Floyd’s murder to offer mutual aid.

I see it. Neighboring is affecting everyday life.

Here’s a classic Minnesota joke: How do you tell the difference between an introverted Minnesotan and an extroverted one? The introvert looks down at his shoes. The extrovert looks down at yours.

But something has shifted. On my daily walks, here’s what I’ve noticed: We’re making eye contact. Smiling. Waving. Saying hello. Signaling we’re safe. I’m an ally. It’s the sweetest thing – and it definitely feels new.

During last weekend’s snowfall, our neighbor came over to help shovel our driveway. He comes over with his snowblower every time. I heard he liked my pistachio chocolate chip cookies and I was happy to bake them for him. And today I met Bear, a cute mutt that exudes: Love me! He broke the ice so we humans could chitchat for a bit.

No matter the weather, we must continue relying on the disinfecting sunlight or snowfall: cameras, whistles, and each other. The antidote I keep coming back to is a return to neighborliness. Care for each other. Creating new ways of being that social media, our busyness, and Zoom disrupted – and that this moment is demanding we rebuild.

I Long for Real Spring

As I said before, I want it to be Spring. I really do. I want to see if the fish in our pond made it through the winter. I want to see the flowers budding. I want to witness signs of new life.

I also want to stop carrying around a laminated copy of my passport. I want to remove the whistle from my key chain. I don’t want to contemplate ordering a dash cam for my vehicle. I want to stop giving my kids the extra caution to be careful. I want to go to my regular grocery store without worry. I want to go get pho downtown. I want to stop being nervous when I see a stopped SUV on the street. I want to drive by a school and know the children are safe. I want to know people aren’t being harmed and abducted.

I want it to be Real Spring so we can host a cookout for my block – so the neighboring of winter can take on a new rhythm. Hyperlocal neighboring? I’m in.

Thank you to the people of the snow.

Whether false or real: Welcome, Spring. I’m ready for you.