I agree with Marguerite. I’m not ready for winter. But Mother Nature doesn’t really care very much whether I or anyone else is ready.
I realize we’ve been fairly lucky this year with mostly mild days and intermittent snow. Unfortunately, realizing we’ve been pretty lucky hasn’t stopped me from complaining. I started snarling about winter when we had our Labor Day snow that put a damper on enjoying the rest of our plants for the remaining few weeks of fall. That was a teaser and then Mother Nature hit other areas of the country and left us alone until recently.
I do believe my reluctance to embrace our limited days of winter is another of the 833 aging things that are most annoying. I feel like I’m meeting those aging things routinely. Now, bitter cold with snow piled up in inconvenient areas even has my old senior dog, BeBe, looking at me like, “Really, you want me to trudge through a snow pile to do my business?” We’re totally simpatico on many things these days.
As she gingerly lies down and then struggles a bit to get up, accompanied by a quiet moan, I realize that’s how I feel most days. I’m a little slower, a few internal groans added to the new aches as I go less enthusiastically through my daily routines.
COVID fever is the new phrase that replaced cabin fever for me and some of my friends/family. Add that to the 833 aging things, gratitude and positive thinking are harder to sustain. So, needless to say, all things great and small have been tinged with aggravation and annoyance. The past little while, the weather has taken center stage as the object of blame for all the day’s ills. Seeing the minus sign in front of the numbers on the thermometer for days in a row has certainly affected my attitude. Then I think how silly that is. I’m an adult. It’s winter. We’ve had many great, tolerable winter days. We need the moisture. What’s the big deal?
I have food, clothing, fireplace, working furnace, adult beverages, so I can certainly get through a few days of inconvenience. One of the reasons we moved here years ago was for the seasons, so I need to get a grip and enjoy this one.
Sounds good, huh? It’s the follow through that count. At times like these, I try to find good writing to sustain.
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and nothing that is.
“The Snow Man” - Wallace Steven