Frost happens.

The most Wisconsin thing.

The most Wisconsin thing I’ve seen in my life. https://t.co/UVmUaa1PD5 pic.twitter.com/TX8J3ZKU6N

— Kyle Malzhan (@KyleMalzhan) March 9, 2026

"I don't think most are prepared...." Oh, we're prepared. It's a Wisconsin thing.

"A mind-set shift involves changing what you notice, what you remark upon, where you place your focus."

"[C]oncentrat[e] on what you like about winter (cooking, cozy indoor reading, the quiet after snowfall) over what you don’t.... 'Appoint yourself a wintertime ambassador this year... and encourage everyone around you to notice what they like about the winter as well.'... [G]et outside, to figure out the layering situation such that experiencing the Norwegian concept of 'friluftsliv,' or “'open air life,' isn’t excruciating. The Swedish author of 'There’s No Such Thing as Bad Weather' (I think that sentence usually completes with 'only bad clothes') [said] 'There are some days when it’s harder to get outside than others, but I know that if I do, I’m never going to regret going outside.'... This is the sort of mantra that works on me. Every fiber of my being may disagree with it, but if I allow my brain to override the resistance, if I believe intellectually that it’s true, I’ll go out in the cold and quite possibly discover the physical and mental benefits of 'outdoorphins.' If I can take a break from my usual winter pastimes of turning up the thermostat when no one is looking and making others touch and offer sympathy for my corpse-cold extremities, there’s a different relationship with winter awaiting."

Writes Melissa Kirsch, in "Cold Comfort/How can the perpetually shivering warm up to winter?" (NYT).

I don't need that advice. (I'm acclimated.) But maybe you do. It's all in the mind. I mean, you have to dress for the occasion, but go outside in the cold. It's exciting. It's beautiful. I love winter!

We made it out onto the Lake Mendota ice.

The sun popped.

Yes, that's Meade out there. Just before that, he saw it this way:

Spotify's "daylist" chose this for us:

Though spring is here, to me it's still September....

For us, it's winter.

We made it to the sunrise vantage point at 7:26, with the temperature at minus 15° (the windless wind chill also minus 15°).

Meade got his video:

That was 6 minutes after the official sunrise time, but the sun did not pop, and we made it back to the car and over to Whole Foods, where we were the first customers, slipping in as the door was unlocked.

With a trunk full of things I feel RFK Jr. would approve of, we headed back home, eastward, and — at 8:26 — experienced a double sunrise:

Spotify had decided that the "daylist" for me this morning was "cowboy country western swing saturday early morning" and at that precise moment, this was the song:

"Texas in My Soul."

We got out for the sunrise when it was 18 below 0 with a "feels like" of 35 below.

7:09:

7:29:

I hope you're keeping warm... at least most of the time. I recommend getting out and challenging yourself to feel the cold. It's thrilling.

But watch out for exploding trees!

Brisk.

It's happening!

@PatMcAfeeShow it’s happening… pic.twitter.com/4GbBspkFlU

— Bob Rae (@TheBobRae) January 22, 2026

Acclimated.

"The pink forests of the northern pre-spring."

"To day is a tree found in several communes in Mu Cang Chai such as Kim Noi and Mo De, and in Pung Luong Commune. The trees bloom at elevations above 1,000 meters. The H'Mong people there call them pang to day, or wild peach blossoms. It is one of the most distinctive flowers in Vietnam's northwestern mountains when spring approaches."

Reports VnExpress. Nice photos at the link. Great name for the tree — "to day." I love the idea of pre-spring, but it wouldn't apply very well to the forests of the Upper Midwest of the United States.

I'm seeing "Exploding trees possible across Minnesota, Iowa, and South Dakota" (KKRC Sioux Falls). That does not mean "exploding" with flowers. "[S]ap and moisture inside trees freeze rapidly... it expands, creating immense pressure within the trunk. If temperatures fall quickly enough, this pressure can cause the tree to split or explode with a sound like a gunshot or thunderclap...."

The grandeur of extreme cold.

The numerical reality:

Meade's interpretation:

Sunrise — 7:01, 7:34.

It was very cold this morning, and the refrozen snow was incredibly slippery, so I only made it this far:

I would have put up with the cold and the wind, but the extra slippery — and bumpy — surface made me opt out of the full sunrise walk. I drove home and Meade walked out to the distant vantage point and then all the way home. Here's my favorite photo of his:

Write about whatever you want in the comments.

These men in shorts are exempt from any Althouse rule against men in shorts.

Photo taken on the ride back from the sunrise walk. It was 7:53 a.m. and the temperature was, perhaps, 20°.

"A British swimmer sustained by bananas and painkillers has become the first person to circumnavigate Hong Kong’s largest island..."

"... a distance equivalent to swimming across the Channel and back again. Simon Holliday, 46, from Ashford in Kent, completed the 40.3-mile circuit of Lantau Island on Friday in 20 hours 57 minutes. Half an hour later, he was followed by Edie Hu of the United States, the first woman to make the swim. They did not wear wetsuits — marathon swim rules mean they are not allowed in waters above 20C — so the chill was one of their biggest challenges.... The three swimmers were followed by a support team in two boats and two kayaks. They were fed in the water every 45 minutes with snacks such as chocolate, jelly babies and bananas."

From "British man is first to swim round Hong Kong’s biggest island/Simon Holliday won the 40-mile race round Lantau — the equivalent of swimming the Channel and back — as competitors battled tides, hallucinations and cramp" (London Times).

20C = 68° Fahrenheit.

A quote from Hu (the woman): "I started getting a little loopy. I was getting sleepy and actually dozing off [in the water].

Have you found what you're looking for?

Ambient U2 at sunrise as the fog clears on the frosty first morning of Standard Time:

ADDED: I don't know how casual or ritualistic these ablutions were, but let this photo stand for the proposition that the weather was frosty:

"Through it all, Europeans tried their best to bear up, especially in places where air conditioning is still a luxury, or frowned upon."

"Some people worry about the pollution it causes; some older Italians just believe it’s bad for health."

From "Dangerous Heat Grips Much of Europe, With More to Come/A punishing heat wave broke records in southern Europe and hasn’t peaked yet in some places, prompting warnings to residents, employers and tourists to alter their habits" (London Times).

What is this belief held by older Italians... and could they be right? People love the comfort of air conditioning and at some point feel fiercely attached to it and resistant to hearing that it might be bad. Obviously, it's bad for the environment, but what about our health? 

But first, what exactly to the old Italians think? According to Grok, the idea is that you should keep you body in balance and not move it back and forth between hot and cold. And they speak of "colpo d’aria" or "colpo di freddo" — "blow of air" or "blow of cold" — as a cause of various pains and respiratory ailments. There's a mistrust of modern inventions and a preference for traditional ways, such as opening windows, fanning, and seeking out the shade. Natural seems better than artificial. 

Is there an element of truth in that... truth... or beauty?

I wondered if The London Times had ever talked about "colpo d’aria" in any other article. Answer: Yes, 3 times:

"When I saw her in that dress, it stopped being cold for me. It was magical."

Said the groom, quoted in "Finding Happily Ever After in a Snowstorm in June/After their wedding was spotted on a webcam, pictures of Jamie and Chris DeBruhl getting married at a mountain resort in Montana spread quickly online" (NYT)(free-access link, so you can see the photos, with the bare-shouldered bride in the snow).

At the Extra-Cold Café...

... you can talk about whatever you want.

At the Ice and Wind Café...

... you can talk all night.

And no, I've got no pictures for you today. I got up at 5 and looked out the window and thought how could it have rained? It's 24°. But the sidewalks had that rained-on look — brown. That has to be ice. I delayed going out, and though it got sunny and the temperature rose above freezing, a ridiculous wind kicked up. I played it safe and stayed inside. Now, it's dark at last. 

Do you realize the entire dark season — darkest 3-month period of the year — is over and we've entered one of the 2 periods of the year when the light and dark are most balanced?

I've explained my thinking before: "I think the seasons are wrongly divided. They shouldn't begin with an equinox/solstice, but should have the equinox/solstice put right in the middle. That would correspond to how I feel about the seasons: It's about light, not temperature. Winter should have the solstice as its center and should end by mid-February and so forth.”

And: "I would call the seasons: 1. Dark Time (with winter solstice in the middle), 2. Dark-Light Time (with spring equinox in the middle), 3. Light Time (summer solstice in middle), and 4. Light-Dark Time (with fall equinox in middle). Don't worry about the temperature. That can vary. The light and dark are absolutely nailed down."

So, despite the ice and wind, we're in Dark-Light Time now.

Posing on the front steps... ready to fight... or dance.

We're told that when Trump stepped out of the SUV, President Biden said, "Welcome home." Nice.

And nice hat on Melania and purple tie on Trump. Jill leaves in brilliant blue.

That's my photo, from my remote outpost in Madison, Wisconsin, where it is 29 degrees colder than it is in Washington, where the inauguration solemnities and festivities have been moved indoors.