I started this winter clutching my steering wheel on the drive up from Boston.
The forecast had called for clear conditions, but just as I turned onto the sparsely populated stretch of I-89, it began to snow. As a Florida native, I frantically phoned my uncle from Massachusetts to guide me through my first snowy drive. It was a stress I did not care to experience, but it was alleviated after arriving on campus late that night. With the snow falling, I found Hanover, or at least my little corner of it, peaceful and mostly desolate.
Barely any students had arrived on campus — classes didn’t start for another four days — and with the dining halls still closed, I got to enjoy an entire day of Han Fusion takeout and shitty movies before I said one word to another person. Walking to the gym or across the Green, I found myself singing out loud. It didn’t matter — there was no one around to hear me.
My pre-term introversion was a hint of what was to come: a full-on January hibernation. I’ve curated a room that is immensely comfortable — complete with ambient lighting, a throw blanket and a crackling candle — and have accordingly impaired my ability to leave it after dinnertime. Burrowed under my blankets, and with two large windows allowing me to people-watch and spectate the snow falling on Massachusetts Row, there is simply no reason to leave. I find myself more concerned with watching a good movie than schlepping myself over to Webster Avenue in the freezing cold — and when I do leave, it’s just to get in some sauna time.
I am of the opinion that January is a dud of a month. There’s a reason they call it the dead of winter — it’s unchanging, the depressing whisper caught in between the symphony of the holidays and the slightly more festive February. After expressions of “Happy New Year!” have hit their expiration date, January sits as still as the blanket of snow outside my window.
This past weekend, though, my roommate championed the relative merits of January. It didn’t help his case that we were walking to dinner in a snowstorm, but his Alaskan self was perhaps better equipped to appreciate the first month of the year.
His main point, aside from being more comfortable in below-freezing weather, was that January is a serene stasis. You’re not counting down the days of warmth until the weather turns, because the cold is already there. January doesn’t sweeten the deal with juicy strawberries and sweet summer sunshine — it smacks you in the face with blustery storms and waist-deep snowfall. But it’s a stable, constant four weeks, a strong foundation for the rest of the year to come.
January is a blank slate, and that’s why, even if I may complain incessantly when I receive emails about incoming negative temperatures, I feel comfortable slipping into a new, more relaxed way of life. Hunkering down for my first real winter in two years — I spent last winter off, safely home in Florida — I find myself embracing this January hibernation.
Entering 2025, I vowed to stick with certain goals: following a consistent gym routine, securing a post-graduation job and making the most of this winter, my final term at Dartmouth. Sometimes I feel like the jaded senior or an old man in a nightcap wielding an oil lamp. It’s true that this winter doesn’t look exactly like my past terms — it’s certainly not as active — but maybe that’s not necessarily a bad thing. From within my humble abode, I am enjoying a term of relative peace and warmth and spending valuable time with the people I love.
This week in Mirror, we’re embracing the peaceful comfort of a wintry January. We look at the important work of Hanover Community Kitchen and the peculiar culture of the Alumni Gymnasium sauna. One writer ranks the seating options at Still North Books & Bar and another reflects on striving for perfection.
Bundle up for this week, Dartmouth — with the snowball fight over and a week of below-zero temperatures ahead, a little coziness never hurt anybody. After all, there’s still spring to come.
