Winter Nonsense

Would anyone care to sign a petition to eliminate January? No? Well, perhaps it wasn't my best idea of the new decade.

Here’s the thing. I think January is pretty much the worst month ever invented, and February isn’t that hot either, and I don’t find either New Year’s Eve/Day or Valentine’s Day to be particularly redeeming holidays, thanks for playing.

And yet. There’s something sort of satisfying about the deep midwinter. You suffer for years and years through it, and then at some point, you notice that it’s still light when you leave the office, and that your face isn’t frozen to the pillow in the morning, and you don’t have to chip the ice off your toothbrush before using it, and before you know it, birds are singing, and crocuses are popping up, and you heave a sigh of relief that Spring has sprung and morning has broken, and you’ve made it through the wilderness, somehow you’ve made it through, and you feel a sense of achievement and fully entitled to enjoy the weather for a few days before it starts all over again.

At least, I think that’s what happens. It’s been a few decades since last April.

I know it’s not all bad all winter. There are some positively glorious snow days and post-snow days, when the sky is blue, and the snow sparkles, and one sends pictures to one’s friends and family in England so they can all be jealous that you live in a winter wonderland ski resort. That’s pretty validating.

But on the days when you get a few hours of yellow-grey in the sky before darkness and ice falls again, I wonder if it wouldn’t be nice to fly south for the winter. And yet.

I think there are a few reasons why I don’t. Let’s ignore the job-related, practical ones. Let’s instead talk about guilt. I think I’d feel a little bit as if I was cheating on Utah. Like I’d come back in March and Utah would say, oh, NOW you’re back. Just because it was a difficult time of the year for me, and I got a little chilly towards you for a while, you cut and run off to some other younger, sunnier state. But NOW, when it’s convenient for YOU, you’re back. Fair-weather friend. And then it would spit on my head with April showers.

And then, could I really appreciate the spring? Could I really enjoy the thawing of the earth if my own fingers weren’t thawing out along with it? I kind of think not. Surely people in San Diego can’t constantly be appreciating and luxuriating in their fabulous weather all year long, can they? Er...can they...?

This is why I don’t really get the idea of heaven. I can’t imagine really appreciating somewhere where everything was perfect all the time. Unless they wake you up every morning with a little horror flick of a January day on Earth. Maybe that’s it. A little contrast every morning to get the blood pumping and make us appreciate all the calming harp music later.

No, I don’t really think heaven is clouds and harps (although that is the image that comes to mind in Pavlovian fashion when I hear the word). I’m not sure that I buy any of the creative depictions I’ve seen in literature or movies (Lovely Bones, What Dreams May Come, etc). I’m not sure that my childhood ideas of riding a unicorn and drinking rainbow lemonade all day are quite on the money, either. I AM pretty sure that I will be wearing haute couture cocktail dresses a LOT, and some really fabulous hats, and it’s those sorts of convictions that keep me going to church.

I kid, I kid! [looks skywards for thunderbolt]. But what is your idea of heaven, pray? And would it be winter, spring, summer, autumn, or all of the above?