It’s been hard to get up in the morning. It’s been hard to go to work, and then get through work (K and I are calling the minutes between 4 p.m. and 5 p.m. “the Dark Times”).
We’ve been quiet, sometimes cranky, and maybe a little bored/boring. We’re hungry all the time and sleepy by 8 o’clock because at that point it’s been dark for three hours and nothing’s going to get done anyway and it’s so hard. It’s hard to get excited and to create life and variety out of this frozen-mud, negative-windchill month.
Maybe it’s slightly SAD; maybe it’s a decrease in sunshine-fueled melatonin and 1,000 other mysterious physical functions creating a psychological kinship with my droopy houseplants these days. Our personalities and epidermises suffer (so itchy all the time). This is the most neutral of months.
A stubborn sense of wonder remains, though. There are deer in bleak woods. There is dancing and closeness. There is snow in the forecast. There are weekend hike plans. And every once in a while, in small and sneaky ways, there is the hint of spring in wet earth smells and bicycling daydreams. In a few months we’ll be swimming at the lake and drinking out of condensation-beaded beer bottles on my porch. Until then, I’m trying to keep my dry and heavy afternoon eyes to the sky.