Winter
The cold has come again. Hard freeze last night. Winter. It might last three, maybe four days. That’s enough for some. It’s enough for me. I exaggerate. It will last longer than that, and I can take it. The Styrofoam covers are on the faucets and the well on the back lots is off, and the tank is drained. All the sensitive plants are inside, both of them. I even bought a grow light for the Ficus that is living in the utility room. I’m a sensitive caring sort of guy.
Next up will be some sort of winter quarter for the cats. Usually, I bring down the old dog crates and line them with packing blankets. But they get nasty as the winter wears on, and I noticed during the big freeze that the cats found other abodes, even though the heat lamps were burning. So, I’m thinking maybe they’ve got toasty underground places where they go, because we do have a nice woodland suburban interface, where I’m sure they can find shelter. Afterall, they started their lives as feral cats and still live outside.
The big thing for me and winter is the blankness of January and February. The parties are over, the decorations are coming down. It will just be short days and cold, mostly. A time of nearly perpetual darkness with a hint of foreboding. I believe I could be convinced to go into hibernation for that period if someone could make it work. If would be sweet, curl up in a nice toasty ball, fat on fish and berries and just sleep. Of course, I imagine I’d still wake up at three, ruminating about some weird ass idea and that would be the end of that. But one can always dream about being a bear.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale