Sunday, March 4, 2018

Cabin Fever Makes One Do Crazy Things

I hate the cold.  Why I have remained in Upstate NY for my entire life, where the cold and gray can span from November to April is beyond me.  I will admit, the first chill at a Fall football game,  when I pull out my cozy sweaters  and hoodies and knee-high boots, is a nice change to the sweat of summer, but it isn't long before those same sweaters are bulky under my winter coat and the boots are slush-covered as I brush the snow off my car in the dark winter mornings.  And by February, even the chance of a snow day home from work has lost its charm.  I'd trade in the chance to sleep in for just ten minutes of the warm sun on my face.

Just this past week, we were home, again, because of snow.  This added insult to injury as mere days before I went for a jog in a t-shirt, and sweat doing so.  So yesterday, I found myself rocking furiously in my rocking chair by the woodstove, my boiling point spilling over.  I’d had it.
“We’re going for a hike,” I blurted to my boyfriend, Mike.  He peered suspiciously at me from the corner of his eye, as if he could sense the clausterphobic insanity behind my words, not trusting if I was serious or about to go mental.
“Ok,” he said slowly, cautiously, as if my mind could just as easily change or explode any moment.

We threw on layers and boots and headed out, albeit to our own 14 acres of wooded trails (suggested by a less crazed Mike), the effect was still immediate. The wind bit my nose and within 10 minutes the tips of my toes started to chill, but I was free!  I was away from the four walls that had been closing in, the dry heat that turned my skin to a flaky mess, the progressing pecks of my sons’ requests on my nerves.  Uphill we went, our breaths heavy and puffing in fast clouds from our mouths and nostrils, that being the only sound besides the cracking of frozen branches in the gusts that kicked up bursts of snow around us.  When we reached the top of the hill that borders our property, we were quiet.  Before us was a view of neighboring hills and the first twist of a valley that snaked the river downstream.  When we’d hiked there last Fall, it was still so alive — the trees turning warm colors and constant movement of life abound:  birds and bugs and swaying fields ready to be harvested.  But now, that picture was frozen, a dormant calm. I was cold, the open field, unobstructed by trees, drove the wind straight through me it seemed, but I was reminded why I am still here in NY.  The crisp contrast of white snow and gray clouds, the quiet of a world insulated by snow and hibernation, recognizing that death and cold of winter draws forth the gratitude of the life in summer’s heat, and vice-versa, all year long, season by beautiful season.

1 comment:

  1. I used to live in Michigan and remember the challenges of the seemingly very long stretch between the last snowstorm and the first day of shorts weather. March and April were long, cold and usually very gray. You perfectly capture the frustration of long drawn-out winters: "but it isn't long before those same sweaters are bulky under my winter coat and the boots are slush-covered as I brush the snow off my car in the dark winter mornings" Arg! May warm sunny days be right around the corner.

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