A Message From Your Local Winter Wheat

Winter should be the gentlest season.

It would be a little unhinged, I guess, to suggest that I can personally understand the language of wheat. Wheat doesn’t speak English, and besides, the wheat that’s above ground right now is basically dead. Anything alive about the wheat is happening underground — and the underground stuff isn’t much to write home about, either.

However, last Sunday I went on a date with my girlfriend to the Snow Beach. I’ve written this like it’s an official name, but it’s not: I would deem…