Last week, I didn’t want to leave the house.
It was one of those cold, foggy mornings that convinces me staying inside with a good crossword puzzle is peak wisdom. The house was warm. The coffee was hot. But the to-do list was long. As much as I wanted to curl up on the couch, I knew I’d have regrets later. Not only would the list go unfinished, but I’d be restless and cranky if I didn’t get out for at least a little fresh air.
So, I poured the coffee into a travel mug, threw some salt on my front stoop, and headed north of town to run a few errands on base.
As I drove, something shifted.
The fog was thick, low, and heavy, and as the road stretched out ahead of me, the landscape seemed to dissolve into it. Snowy fields melted seamlessly into the cloudy December sky. Everything felt still—like the world had paused mid-breath.
It reminded me of the scenery in those old Thomas Kinkade prints my grandmother loved. Soft edges. Muted colors. A kind of quiet beauty that doesn’t demand attention but rewards it if you’re willing to notice.
The fog had frozen overnight into hoar frost, coating every tree branch, pine needle, and stray leaf in delicate crystals. Things that are there every day seemed different when highlighted that way.
It was beautiful in a way I didn’t want to be distracted from, so I turned off the radio, willing myself to memorize it. I wanted something to recall the next time I was tempted to agree when hear someone describe North Dakota as a frozen, ugly wasteland.
I love an object lesson, and Minot is full of them.
Maybe it’s because this place deals in extremes—weather, seasons, isolation, stillness—that it lends itself so well to these teachable moments. If you’re paying attention, there’s always something being revealed. The landscape teaches quietly, but persistently.
As I drove, I was reminded that this kind of beauty doesn’t exist in places where the uncomfortable conditions that produce it don’t occur. You don’t witness hoar frost on a mild day. You don’t see frozen fog clinging to branches unless temperatures drop and moisture hangs heavy in the air. This kind of beauty requires cold. It requires discomfort. It requires showing up when staying inside would be easier.
In life, we often judge seasons—both literal and proverbial—by how pleasant they look on paper. Comfort. Ease. Warmth. Clarity. Those are the conditions we’re drawn to. We wait for them. We hope for them. Sometimes we even postpone living fully until they arrive.
But some of the most meaningful moments—the ones that shape us, soften us, or teach us something lasting—don’t come from ideal circumstances. They come from the in-between. The foggy days. The cold mornings. The seasons that ask us to show up anyway.
That drive reminded me to look back on the proverbially cold seasons in my own life. Often, those were the times when something beautiful was revealed—something I wouldn’t have seen unless the conditions were right. In the same way that pearls shine brightest against dark velvet, some of the best parts of life require contrast to be fully appreciated. Growth, more often than not, comes from endurance, not ease.
That doesn’t mean we romanticize hardship or seek it out unnecessarily. Cold is still cold. Fog still limits visibility. Hard seasons are still hard. But it does mean we don’t dismiss them outright. We stay curious. We keep our eyes open. We remember that not all beauty announces itself loudly, and not all value comes wrapped in comfort.
That morning, if I’d stayed home—if I’d let the cold and fog make the decision for me—I would have missed it. The stillness. The quiet awe. The reminder that sometimes the most extraordinary sights are reserved for those willing to step outside when conditions are less than ideal.
Minot has taught me that.
So has life.
Sometimes, the most brilliant beauty only becomes visible when we move through the bleak, the uncomfortable, and the inconvenient. And sometimes, the simple act of showing up—of turning off the radio, slowing down, and really looking—is enough to remind us that even in the coldest seasons, there is something worth seeing.
Find more on life in North Dakota and finding a positive perspective at amyallender.com or by following along on Instagram at @HeyMinot.