A weekend snowshoeing trip to the Cuyuna Country Recreations Area was fitting for the first week in February. I went into the snowy woods twice, once with buddies and the next day alone (on Groundhog’s Day). Since snow has been scarce this winter, the snowfall that occurred on my first outing was welcome and beneficial to the winter adventures.
Snow or no snow, winter in northern Minnesota lasts as long as it wants to—no matter what the groundhog says. February 2—today—was Groundhog Day and Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow, signaling six more weeks of winter. Well, thanks Phil, but in Minnesota it isn’t news that winter will be around for six more weeks. In fact, seven weeks from now, snow is predicted.
Here in Minnesota, winter typically lasts through April. It happens to be our signature season. (About five months of winter, if you’re counting.)
While some folks may groan at the thought of six more weeks of winter, I embrace the season with snowshoes strapped to my feet, trekking through the quiet beauty of the Cuyuna Range.
This weekend, I snowshoed twice. It was both a fulfillment of my February nature resolution and a wonderful way to spend time during the cold season.
Day One: A Gentle Snowfall and Stillness
On the first day of February, I set out with two friends to explore the trails around Yawkey Lake. It is one of the mountain bike trail areas of the Cuyuna Country State Recreational Area.
The snow wasn’t so deep it required snowshoes, but they provided much-needed traction and added to the adventure of our winter hike. The red pines stretched high above us, their branches swaying in the wind, while the snow fell softly, melting against my face. It was invigorating. My skin welcomed the sensation. Cold. Snow. Winter. I love it! My breath was visible in the air.
The adventure was sweet for many reasons. Sharing it with two dear friends and enjoying the snowy woods were at the top of my list. I really do love the woods! They are a magical place during wintertime, and I don’t think I will ever tire of communing with trees.
Toward the end of our trek, we paused by the lake. I climbed a tree and perched on the low branches of a red pine while my friends either walked in the snow or lay down in quiet meditation. It was a moment of peaceful stillness, a chance to simply exist within the winter landscape.
Day Two: Tracking in the Quiet of the Woods
On Groundhog Day, Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow, predicting more winter. But here in Minnesota, we didn’t need a groundhog to tell us what we already knew—winter was far from over.
I returned to the woods, this time alone, under a periwinkle sky. The air was still, except for a gentle breeze and the occasional rustling of last season’s leaves that hung on some of the trees. (Letting go is hard sometimes.)
I walked along the trails, pausing when I heard the tapping of a woodpecker. Though I couldn’t spot it, the sound was enough—a reminder of the life that continues, even in the stillness of winter.
As I followed a trail used by mountain bikers, I noticed animal tracks in the snow. They were too small to be a wolf’s, but too large for a fox—perhaps a coyote’s? There were no human footprints nearby, leading me to wonder about the creature’s journey through the forest.
Curiosity got the best of me, and I tracked the prints to a junction where a sign warned that hikers and pets were not allowed beyond that point. The animal had clearly ignored the rule, and for a moment, so did I. The path wound between boulders, then dipped steeply downward. Suddenly, the prints vanished. Perhaps the animal, like me, had a moment of hesitation—rethinking its decision and turning back.
Winter in Motion
Standing at the junction, I took in the view from the hilltop. Below me stretched a patchwork of frozen lakes and dense woods. The wind had picked up, and the sky, once a brilliant periwinkle, had faded into a dull gray. At nearly 40 degrees, the day was unusually warm for midwinter, yet the ground remained firm, the snow crisp beneath my feet.
I had a melancholy moment, knowing the season of snowshoeing would come to an end when the ground and air temperatures made the snow sticky and uncooperative. It happens every March, and I grieve the passing of the season. While winter in Minnesota usually tarries into April (sorry, Phil), the snow in March isn’t always conducive to winter sports.
It didn’t take me long to snap out of my future concern and return to the present. I was in the woods snowshoeing and enjoying nature all around me. Why should I think about the snow melting while I had it there, beneath my feet? There was ample time left to enjoy the season.
Minnesota winters are long, but they hold a quiet magic, especially in the woods. There is so much to see and enjoy. I cannot imagine life without trees and nature and snow. Snowshoeing through the Cuyuna Range was not just a physical trek—it was a chance to connect with the land, to listen to the rhythms of nature, and to simply be present in the moment.
I’m sure I will return to the Cuyuna Range soon and enjoy more snowshoeing. I don’t want to miss the opportunity to explore the woods while there is snow. While there is time. While there is winter.
