Life Under the Permacloud
Photo by Ryan Blaske
South Bend in winter can be a dark place, literally. The sun rises long past 8:00 a.m. while setting right after 5:00 p.m. That is if the city sees the sun at all. For most of the winter, our sky is dark, low, and cloudy. There are few words that more aptly describe South Bend in winter than ‘permacloud.’
The clouds hang low and close, with the added annoyances of snow, sleet, and freezing wind added in for good measure. South Bend in the winter is no place for the weak-willed, or so we tell ourselves, to justify our existence.
To survive this malaise of cold and cloud, the good people of South Bend retreat annually into our homes and hovels. We emerge somewhat regularly to shovel snow and throw salt down. Occasionally, we may glimpse our neighbor in the same ritual and share a commiserating wave amongst the wind and snow.
In normal times, our winter hibernation is adjoined with more frequent trips to the city’s bars, restaurants, and other indoor spaces. The Downtown Library is typically packed with over-eager children while their parents enjoy an hour or two not stuck at home. Our restaurants take on the much-needed role of a second dining room for the weary who are tired of cooking in the dark.
South Bend retreats inward, finding comfort in the familiar, with dreams of spring.
This winter - of course - has been anything but normal. Most indoor spaces are closed if not severely limited in capacity. For my family, at least, the once familiar refuge of the restaurant in the winter has been meekly transformed into a shallow existence where one scampers in - masked of course - and then scampers out with take-out bags in hand. The few minutes of conversation while picking up the food replacing what once was a few hours of warmth and dialogue.
Existing in South Bend has been trying this winter (to say the least). I had been dreading its arrival for the entirety of fall. During the summer of 2020, South Bend opened up to its residents in new and intriguing ways instigated by the pandemic. The Riverwalk was not only a place to go for a jog but became a full day’s outing for the entire family. Playgrounds and parks became one of the few places left children could play amongst each other with relatively little worry from parents who were glad to encounter others of their kind.
The pandemic in the summer and fall brought life outside to the city, but I knew when the permacloud returned in the winter, it would force us to retreat indoors.
But yet, a similar experience has emerged this winter as well. South Bend has graced us with that perfect combination of enough snow to enjoy while warm enough to spend more than ten minutes admiring it. My children have trekked up and sled down the hills which dot the landscape. What once seemed unthinkable - at least to me - became commonplace, like pushing my son on a swing, in January, with a wind chill of 15 degrees.
It has not been an easy winter, but there was still beauty to be found.
This beauty has done little to temper my readiness for its end. I am ready for spring, the vaccine, and the sunny days ahead.
There are few better places to be than South Bend on the first day the thermometer hits 70 degrees when the trees explode in color, pushing away the grey malaise of winter. The people reemerge - with pants a bit tighter at the waist - ready to take on the year. Yards throughout neighborhoods become mini construction projects with last fall’s leaves to finish raking, seeds put down, and grass mowed once more. Children rediscover their old stomping grounds in alleys and playgrounds. We open our windows and our homes to the warmth and sunshine that eluded us all winter long.
If this winter has taught me anything, it's to be thankful. Thankful for when the sun appears, and it's warm enough for your daughter to be able to go outside for the first time in a week. Thankful for the river and land left aside for exploring in this urban place. Thankful that, like all things, winter in South Bend ends.