Embracing the Season

I have to say that it gets a little difficult "embracing the season" this time of year in my corner of the world. On this last gruesomely gray day of February, spirits are definitely starting to flag.  Even my four-year-old grandson is showing signs of wear. Just the other day he bit his little brother, something he's never done before. If the truth be told, I feel like biting someone, too. Hard. It doesn't matter who.

This morning after going down to the wet basement in my robe and slippers to find big puddles everywhere and having to adjust the yowling sump pump YET AGAIN, I've been keeping myself braced up against the dull numbness of yet another winter day by snacking on pineapple and taking virtual trips to tropical destinations. Maui. Bali. St. Tropez. Even Pennsylvania, where my sister lives, sounds good. At least it's warmer there. And different.

Okay. Enough indulging myself with complaints. Since this blog is entitled "Comfort and Joy", I really shouldn't be using it as a platform to be negative, unless I change the title to "Mud, Slush, and Where is the Snow Scraper?" 

 

 

Really, other than the 16-day bout with the flu that ushered in the start of February, things haven't been too bad. I'm still able to talk myself into thinking the snow is pretty and fun, especially delighting in the fact that my oldest grandson has not only learned to ski, but is already hitting the intermediate slopes, impressing the heck out of all the rest of us. Each storm (some lasting two days, followed by THE BIG THAW) is, after all, an excuse to drink hot chocolate festooned with real cream, light a fire in the fireplace, and play board games, (I'm getting good at cribbage, so watch out. ) or rest on the red sofa pretending to read. With my eyes closed.

 

This time of year does have its unexpected and delightful surprises, like waking up to a sun rising on a glittering world, being on hand to see my grandson's face when his team wins their first basketball game, celebrating St. Valentine's Day with three little dear hearts, taking my 92-year old friend on a shimmery sun-kissed drive through the country to discover a charming spot for a glass of sherry and a proper ladies' luncheon, and enjoying a Sunday afternoon walk with the temps at a steady 35 degrees.

 

When we're feeling desperate, my entire family goes candlepin bowling for an hour or so, or to the elementary school where we work out our winter blues in the gym shooting each other with Nerf missiles while playing "Battle Rockets", a game endeared to us at summer day camp.  I love winning, even though I know it's because no one wants to aim at and hit Grammie Red, the Old Lady.

Now that I think about it, there are moments that are more than bearable; some are even blissful. Maybe I can go twenty more days until the first moment of Spring...hopefully without biting anybody.