Everything was gray.
I think it was easier to appreciate January’s desolate beauty as a child. The dull skies, treeless fields and drifted roads created the illusion that I was suspended in a cloud. I felt tiny. And the world was huge.
Today, however, I just feel cold … and frustrated.
Maybe it’s because the responsibilities of adulthood are not made easier by frigid temperatures, gusty winds and piles of dirty slush.
Just getting out the door requires impossible decisions. Should I tuck my pants into my boots and deal with the unfixable wrinkles? Or should I wear my pants over my boots and deal with the soggy, salt-stained cuffs? Like I said, impossible.
People who live closer to the equator don’t have to worry about such things. I imagine that’s why they’re known to have sunny dispositions and a relaxed sense of time. Why should they fret or hurry? There’s always tomorrow to take that bicycle ride or lounge on the beach.
To those warm souls, we must seem rather uptight.
We can’t help it.
The seasons change so quickly — and to such an extreme degree — that we are constantly rushing.
“Make sure you get on your skis this weekend before the temps rise!”
“Go outside and enjoy the fresh air before the mosquitoes hatch!”
“Eat your fill of strawberries now before the birds get them!”
“Take a picture of the maple leaves before the wind picks up!”
I suppose there is value in having opportunities vanish almost as soon as they appear. Forced to live in the moment, we might appreciate life's fleeting pleasures just a bit more.
Still, on days like today, I wouldn't mind looking forward to endless sunny weekends.
How bad could that be?