Have you noticed how winter tiptoes in during the dead of night, quiet as a fog? You’re lulled to sleep by the soft plash of raindrops and wake to, surprise!, a stark, barren moonscape outside your window. If you can see through the frost.
Unlike a visit from Santa or the Tooth Fairy, though, it’s a rude awakening. Winter doesn’t bring gaily wrapped packages or cash money. It unloads snow and sleet, snarling traffic and disrupting lives for days at a stretch. Months. It’s a terrible, horrible, awful, very bad visitor.
No, back up. Visitor implies an invitation or a welcome (however begrudging). Tactless intruder is more like it. Winter shows up, ready or not, then proceeds to create an ungodly mess and make everyone miserable. Locking your door doesn’t help. Pretending you’re not home doesn’t help. Moving away, no forwarding address, useless. There’s nothing for it but to wait it out.
We’re sitting ducks. So pull up a chair and make yourself at home; we’re going to be here awhile. Most of December, plus all of January and February still await — there’s loads of time yet to kill. A good, long book is one option: War and Peace is the classic time suck. Infinite Jest or City on Fire are contemporary alternatives. The Internet, of course, is the mother of all time sucks. Find something, anything, to carry you through the cold, dark days ahead.
If you run out of stuff, twiddle your thumbs, whistle Dixie, or pull the covers over your head — my favorite. The thing to remember is, winter will end. It might not seem like it, but it will. The sun will shine, the snow will melt, and warmth will fill the land.
Heck, I’ll get a flamethrower if I have to. Because one way or another spring’s a-coming, I guaran-damn-tee it.
copyright © 2016 the whirly girl