A few days ago, as I watched the first snowflakes swirl around my feet, I had one question: When’s spring?
You’d think that living my whole life—60-plus years, no exceptions—in the Chicago area would soften my dislike of winter, but it seems to be getting stronger.
Last year, in January, I was heartened to notice that the days were flying by, even those miserable, bone-chilling, white-knuckle-driving days. (Unfortunately, spring and summer flew by too.) But it’s always the beginning of winter, or wintry weather, that gets me down in the dumps every year. And it's getting worse.
I'm back in the routine of sitting in front of my bright S.A.D. lamp each morning. I'm still not sure if it helps, but it sheds a nice light on my crossword puzzle and morning coffee.
Last year I was determined to come up with things I like about winter. The one that came to mind then was "sweaters." I do love winter sweaters—cashmere, merino wool, bulky blends—all in saturated jewel colors that would be inappropriate in warm weather.
I also like boots. Slick leather boots with delicate heels, definitely not suitable for sloshing in snow. But whenever I want to wear a pair of good boots to a party, I'm forced to carry them in a bag and put on my "galoshes" instead. (They're not really galoshes—just dorky but practical footwear designed to keep you warm, dry, and upright—but not fashionable.)
In the coming weeks, I'll make an effort to add to my joys-of-winter list. In the meantime, I'm off to see if I still have that thermal underwear to put on under my pants for the walk from my car to the parking lot at work. Brrrrrrrrrr.