“Whoever is praying for snow, please stop!”
I found that quote on Facebook this morning, and I concurred. Yes, it’s a funny little quip but for some of us, it really hits home. To me, getting ready – psychologically ‒ for wintertime is like fretting about an impending colonoscopy: it’s just another unpleasant trial that has to be suffered through. Such is life…
So far this year we’ve had a mild winter, but those blissful days came to a bitter end Sunday. And by Monday morning my world had been transformed into the frozen central zone in the Ninth Circle of Hell that Dante warned us about: a place that is freezing cold without light – the furthest place from God.
“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”
Well, maybe it’s not that bad, but sometimes I get so depressed, cold and miserable in wintertime that I may as well be freezing in a dark, ice-covered hell – if only in my mind. Bears are lucky dogs! They hibernate and sleep their winters away dreaming of warm summer days. And then – almost miraculously – springtime comes and the bears awaken and venture back out into the sun kissed world that they know and love, as if winter never even happened.
A great majority of the denizens of ‘snow country’ live for the winters. They head for the slopes and snowmobile trails with glee in their eyes, anticipating fun in the white stuff. (The last time I looked forward to ‘the white stuff’ was years ago during my more nefarious days.) These ‘snow people’ walk around all winter with big smiles on their faces. They’re happy as I was in my youth, sled riding down the snow-packed Allegheny Mountains…
But that was a long time ago.
My father moved us out of snow country to Dallas when I was twelve. It was 1963, the year President Kennedy was assassinated in Dealey Plaza – and I assure you that I had nothing to do with it. Since then, I have visited and lived in the tropics, and discovered that I am more of a tropical sort of guy than a son of the tundra. Don’t get me wrong, I love Pagosa and my mountain friends. I just love it better in the warm season which, incidentally, is about four months long.
I, like most of the people of Pagosa Country, are transplants. But some plants don’t do too well in colder zones. They are transplanted to a region where they have a hard time taking root and survive only with a lot of TLC; but they never seem to bloom as they would in other more temperate zones. And like a lot of plants up here, they simply die off in the wintertime.
Maybe I need to start putting Miracle Grow in my beer?
I have to admit that the panoramic snowscapes of Pagosa Country are are a thing of exceptional beauty. Pine trees flocked with snow, shimmering white mountains basking under cobalt blue skies, and unmolested, virginal snow covering the earth like a soft winter blanket are a magnificent spectacle to behold – just close your eyes and take a breath of that crisp mountain air. Have you seen snow blasted Chimney Rock under the full moon? It’s right out of dream!
I love the beauty of it all, but anymore, I hate driving in snow and black ice over treacherous passes at three in the morning (or any other time or place for that matter); I dislike shoveling snow for hours on end, snow blowing, and knocking snow off a slippery roof, cars that won’t start, dangerous driving conditions, sometimes ending up in ditches, hauling water in the winter, the lack of work, and I can’t even count the times when my feet flew out from under me and I slammed to the ground – or stairs – on my poor sacroiliac.
As it turns out, there are many other Pagosans who share my aversion to snow and ice. Perhaps we should form a secret coffee club. We could meet every Tuesday morning at Higher Grounds and bitch about anything ‘winter.’ We’d call it Winter Haters Anonymous…
It seems that I may be inflicted with SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). Symptoms of SAD “may consist of difficulty waking up in the morning, nausea, tendency to oversleep and overeat, especially a craving for carbohydrates, which leads to weight gain. Other symptoms include lack of energy, difficulty concentrating on or completing tasks, withdrawal from friends, family, and social activities, and [OMG] decreased sex drive. All of this leads to depression, pessimistic feelings of hopelessness, and lack of pleasure which characterize a person suffering from this disorder.”
Of course all my friends say: “But DC, you’re crazy the whole year.” Which I admit readily. I guess I shouldn’t worry too much – it’s probably only my bi-polar disease. But just the same, old man Winter and I do not get along well.
[Note to self: have shrink adjust my medications.]
And when I finally move back to the Islands, you will not hear me complain about the lack of seasonal changes. They don’t call it paradise for nothing, although a lot can be said of a snow-covered mountain paradise.
I’ll take a framed photograph of Pagosa in winter and hang it on a wall in my little grass shack, overlooking sparkling Kealakekua Bay. I’ll look at it, at Christmas time…
Aloha!
DC has been a frustrated musician for over fifty years, and now has decided to become a frustrated writer. Learn more at DCDuncan.com. He’ll keep you posted.