From Almost Nowhere: A South Dakota Winter Tale

Whenever I’m asked the question, “Where are you from?” I often mutter a quick “Midwest…” and hope the conversation moves on without further inquiry. It’s not entirely deceitful, but the bare truth is something far more unique — I hail from the heart of the heartland, none other than South Dakota. Known for its vast open spaces and sparse population, it’s a place where half the population could disappear into the prairie mist, unnoticed until the next election cycle rolls around.

Governor of South Dakota

Being the optimist I am, I always strive to find the silver lining in every situation, yet even my sunny disposition struggles to find warmth during the frigid expanse of a South Dakota winter break. My journey home began at one of the state’s mere two airports, a telling sign of the state’s sparse habitation. Those of us from quaint villages like ‘Almost Nowhere’ know all too well that the phrase ‘middle of nowhere’ can sometimes seem like an overstatement.

South Dakota Airports

Once I landed, my mother arrived to pick me up on our family’s quaint horse-drawn wagon — a charming nod to our pioneer roots. The journey was a brief 30-minute ride thanks to being from the tiny hamlet of Almost Nowhere, as opposed to somewhere truly remote like ‘Completely Lost.’ During our ride, my mother shared news of barren fields and our sickly cows, a common hardship in the harsh winter months.

Upon arrival at our homestead, my father proudly presented me with a deer pelt to supplement the warmth of our Walmart-bought winter coat from last harvest. It was a practical gift considering the biting cold of a South Dakota winter. Such gestures of familial love came with simple yet cherished celebrations — like indulging in freshly churned salted butter, each spoonful a reminder of home and warmth.

South Dakota Winter Storm

Not long after my return, the entire state was blanketed in a monumental winter storm. The tempest immobilized everything, disrupting Wi-Fi connections and rendering even our stalwart wagon useless against the heavy drifts that built up in our driveway. To pass the time, my brother and I entertained ourselves by reviving traditional pastimes — rolling a hoop around the snowy lawn and swatting it with sticks, an age-old play that brought unexpected delight.

After a month of scraping for amusements amid the winter monotony, it was time for my return journey to Walla Walla — the biggest ‘city’ I had ever experienced, magnified by the stark contrast of my South Dakota origins. As the plane ascended, leaving behind the snow-laden prairies, I carried with me a renewed appreciation for the quiet resilience and earthy joys of my Almost Nowhere home.