leahj:

Lake Michigan has turned into a sea of ice balls in Glen Arbor (by headsonfire)

A SEA OF ICE BALLS

Meanwhile, on the other side of the lake…

kellydeal:

chicagodibs:

"I told you, Dibs isn’t just some GAME. Chicagoans play for keeps."
via @JeppsonsMalort (because, of course)

So, adding the Malort just out-Chicagoed the Chicagoness of Dibs.


The most dangerous game.

kellydeal:

chicagodibs:

"I told you, Dibs isn’t just some GAME. Chicagoans play for keeps."

via @JeppsonsMalort (because, of course)


So, adding the Malort just out-Chicagoed the Chicagoness of Dibs.

The most dangerous game.

thatsopranochick:

chicagodibs:

by noordpunt

Saint Mary of Dibs, pray for us.

thatsopranochick:

chicagodibs:

by noordpunt

Saint Mary of Dibs, pray for us.

coco-n-pipi:

winter in Chicago

coco-n-pipi:

winter in Chicago

misskarenkaz:

It’s March fucking 19, dammit. 

It has snowed appreciably in mid-April. Heck, we got flurries in May a couple years ago. We’ve still got weeks to go.

tinyclicks:

itscolossal:

Animated Lake Michigan ice floes by Dave Gorum. See more on Colossal

Colossal did a lil feature on some of my slush gifs. Neato!

So awesome.

littledidiknow:

kellydeal:

“Snowy Bean” by @haleyloklokb

My Chicago heart just skipped a beat

Beautiful.

littledidiknow:

kellydeal:

“Snowy Bean” by @haleyloklokb

My Chicago heart just skipped a beat

Beautiful.

The fact is that most of the people in this world will never know what the weather in February here feels like. We own that here. We’re proud of it. It’s what seems to set us apart. And every year there comes one morning when I realize the coldest part of the winter is behind us. And it’s as though one of the things that makes Chicago truly hearty, special, different is behind us. I’ll wake up one night and hear a dripping sound and realize that it’s rain. Liquid water falling from the sky. It feels like a loss. It’s a small miracle. We use winter to mark the time. We huddle together. We keep on.

A-J Aronstein in “February in Chicago” for The Paris Review

There are six terrible weeks in Chicago. The first three run from the end of January, around the 20th or so, until the beginning of February. This is the coldest time of the year. After this, the temperature will rise and fall, dip occasionally by surprise then shoot up to something unseasonable, before settling. Rinse and repeat. The first three are terrible because of the cold, obviously, but also because it is the true test of whether or not someone can call themselves a true Chicagoan. It is sustained coldness. Aronstein’s essay talks about the brutality of winter 2009 and yes, that was the last terrible winter for me here as well. I took cabs to class and did not care. I lived by the lake, only a block away, and never knew my tears from the wind could freeze my eyes shut.  

There are colder places, yes, but Chicago’s coldness is particular. It’s about the way the wind whips around the buildings. It’s about how there are certain pockets that feel great and certain pockets, just 10 or 20 feet away, that seem particularly cruel, like a joke that’s not funny and won’t stop. It’s about bus stops and how, if you are wealthy enough to live by many or to live by a train, the winter can be almost bearable. To live outside of this area, to live far south, to live far west, is to understand the depths of a true Chicago winter. Those people feel like true Chicagoans to me. The waiting is key. 

(via britticisms)

So very true.

Chicago sunset through the Michigan Avenue canyon.
Rearview photo by Chris Smith.

Chicago sunset through the Michigan Avenue canyon.

Rearview photo by Chris Smith.

calumet412:

State Street cluster-f*ck, 1967, Chicago

Welcome back to winter driving, everyone.

calumet412:

State Street cluster-f*ck, 1967, Chicago

Welcome back to winter driving, everyone.