|Artificial flowers covered with melting snow.|
- Mignon McLaughlin
Winter is not my favorite season, and while I've always tried to embrace it, it has consistently given me mixed feelings. When I was a little girl living in Connecticut, I would stay out for the good part of many days making snow angels, sledding, throwing snowballs, and ice skating. I had fun, but I always cursed the resulting iciness and numbness in my toes at the end of each day.
Then there was the time I crashed through some snow-covered ice and landed in a swamp. I was able to climb out, but my snow pants and coat were soaked with muddy water, which really weighed me down. Luckily I was close enough to safely drag myself home on that freezing day.
Sometimes walking through a snowy landscape inspires an appreciation for the silence and the stillness of winter, and sometimes it makes me worry that if I fell and injured myself, I would slowly freeze to death as no one would hear my cries for help.
As a child, the beginning of the winter thaw would give me hope as I saw ice melting and water starting to run off the frozen school playground, but I knew I would have to be patient because the gradual warming to more hospitable temperatures would take at least a month, and probably longer, and I would still be stuck outside for every recess until that happened.
Most of my serious depressions have occurred during the fall and winter. This year I seem to be fending off that unpleasant, and often debilitating, condition. I've been keeping up with all of my routines and moving forward, but I still have some of that strange quietness and stillness inside that winter always brings me. Some people love it, but it just makes me feel off balance. I've been reading more, trying to enjoy spending more time indoors, and appreciating the relative warmth of some days, but I really can't wait to jump into a pool on a hot July day.