I hooked up the hose and washed my cars in Minnesota in winter
Across the American Midwest, winter has become something closer to a memory than a season — temperatures running nearly two dozen degrees above normal, snowfall measured in inches where feet once fell, and the Great Lakes wearing only a thin veil of ice where thick coverage once defined the months. Driven by the convergence of El Niño and the deeper current of long-term climate warming, this winter is not merely an anomaly but a marker of how profoundly the coldest season is being remade. For a region whose identity has long been shaped by cold and snow, the absence of both is not just meteorological — it is existential.
- Minneapolis-St. Paul has received barely four inches of snow since December, leaving the Twin Cities with less accumulation than Nashville, Tennessee — a deficit of nearly two feet from what winter normally delivers.
- Great Lakes ice coverage has collapsed to just 5 percent, a near-record low against a typical 36 percent, leaving shorelines exposed to wave erosion and setting the stage for dangerous lake-effect snow if cold air eventually arrives.
- February temperatures across Minnesota have soared 18 to 23 degrees above average, part of a decades-long trend in which winter has become the fastest-warming season across three-quarters of the United States.
- Snowmobiling, ice fishing, skiing, and winter tourism — the economic lifeblood of the region's coldest months — have all been gutted by the absence of snow and ice.
- Climatologists who have spent careers studying Midwestern winters say they have never witnessed a season quite like this one, and with more than half of winter already gone, the record books are already being rewritten.
Winter arrived in the Midwest this year in name only. By early February, people were washing their cars in Minnesota, a tornado touched down in Wisconsin on a winter Thursday night, and dozens of northern cities were tracking toward one of the warmest winters ever recorded. The season had become something unrecognizable.
The cause is a familiar but intensifying combination: a strong El Niño pattern amplified by the long-term warming of the climate. Minnesota's climatologist Pete Boulay noted that winter has become the fastest-warming season across nearly three-quarters of the country, and this year broke records not just briefly but thoroughly and persistently. The state logged its warmest December on record, and by early February temperatures were running 18 to 23 degrees above normal.
The snow deficit tells the starkest story. Minneapolis-St. Paul had received only 4.1 inches of snow since December — nearly two feet below normal — while Erie, Pennsylvania, was missing roughly four feet. The Great Lakes, which typically hold about 36 percent ice coverage by early February, sat at just 5 percent, continuing a 50-year trend in which maximum ice extent has fallen by a quarter.
The consequences reach beyond the weather. Winter tourism built around snowmobiling, ice fishing, and skiing has suffered deeply. Bare shorelines along the Great Lakes face erosion from waves that ice would normally suppress. And should cold air return late in the season, the open water could unleash heavy lake-effect snow on downwind communities.
More than half of winter has already passed, and its character is already defined. For a region where the cold season has always been central to identity and economy, this winter is not just a record — it is a signal.
Winter arrived in the Midwest this year, but only in name. By early February, the season had become something unrecognizable to those who live there—a stretch of springlike days when people washed their cars in Minnesota and thunderstorms spawned a tornado in Wisconsin on a Thursday night in the middle of the coldest months. Dozens of cities across the northern United States were tracking toward one of the warmest winters on record, a departure so complete that it has begun to reshape what the season means in this part of the country.
The culprit is a familiar pairing: a classic El Niño pattern working in concert with the long-term warming of the climate itself. Pete Boulay, a climatologist with the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources, described the phenomenon plainly—winter has become the fastest-warming season across nearly three-quarters of the United States, and snowfall is declining globally as temperatures climb. What makes this winter unusual is not that it broke records, but that it broke them so thoroughly and for so long. Boulay, who has studied Minnesota winters for years, said he had never experienced anything quite like it. The state recorded its warmest December on record, followed by a January that felt almost mild despite a brief, brutal cold snap in early January. By the first week of February, temperatures were running 18 to 23 degrees above normal.
The absence of snow tells the story most clearly. Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport had received only 4.1 inches of snow since December 1—a deficit of nearly two feet compared to what a typical winter brings. The shortfall is so severe that Nashville, Tennessee, 700 miles to the southeast, had accumulated more snow than the Twin Cities. In areas around the Great Lakes, where lake-effect snow typically buries communities in white, the deficit is even more dramatic. Erie, Pennsylvania, is missing roughly four feet of snow this season.
The Great Lakes themselves have become a mirror of the broader pattern. Ice coverage, which should blanket about 36 percent of the lakes by early February, hovered near a record low of just 5 percent. Melissa Widhalm, the associate director of the Midwestern Regional Climate Center at Purdue University, said the region was teetering on the edge of record low ice coverage. This is part of a longer trend: over the past 50 years, the maximum ice extent on the Great Lakes has dropped by 25 percent as winters have grown warmer and shorter.
The economic consequences are immediate and tangible. Winter tourism across Minnesota and the broader Midwest depends on snow and ice. Snowmobiling, ice fishing, skiing, and snowshoeing—the activities that draw visitors and dollars to the region during the coldest months—have all suffered. The missing ice also leaves Great Lakes shorelines vulnerable to erosion from waves that would normally be locked in place, and it changes the calculus for future weather. Without extensive ice coverage, if cold air does eventually arrive, the lakes could produce prolific lake-effect snow in cities downwind.
There are still weeks remaining in the winter season, and snow and cold could yet return. But with more than half of winter already past, the damage to the season's character is already done. Boulay's assessment was simple: this winter is going to stand out in the record books, a marker of how fundamentally the season is changing across a region where winter has always been the defining feature of the year.
Citações Notáveis
I've never experienced anything like it. I hooked up the hose, which is something we wouldn't do in Minnesota during the winter, and washed my cars this past weekend.— Pete Boulay, climatologist, Minnesota Department of Natural Resources
We're teetering on the edge of record low ice coverage.— Melissa Widhalm, associate director, Midwestern Regional Climate Center at Purdue University
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
When you say this winter is unusual, what makes it different from just a cold year that didn't happen to get much snow?
It's the duration and the consistency. We've had warm weeks in winter before, even a couple of weeks. But this has been warm for months—December, January, and into February. It's not a blip. It's the entire season.
And you're saying climate change is the main driver, not just El Niño?
El Niño is the immediate pattern this year, but the underlying trend is climate change. Winter is warming faster than any other season across most of the country. El Niño is riding on top of that longer warming trend.
What does a climatologist actually notice in their daily life when something like this happens?
I washed my car in Minnesota in winter. That's not something you do. You notice the small absurdities—the things that break the rules of the place you live.
The snowmobiling industry must be devastated.
It is. But it's bigger than just one winter. If this becomes the pattern, if winters keep warming, then those industries have to fundamentally change what they do.
Is there any scenario where the ice comes back?
There are still weeks left. Cold could arrive. But even if it does, the long-term trend is clear. The Great Lakes have lost 25 percent of their maximum ice extent in 50 years. One cold winter doesn't reverse that.
So what does a winter look like in the Midwest in 20 years?
That depends on what we do now. But if the current trajectory continues, winter as people in Minnesota know it—the thing that defines the year—becomes something else entirely.