I recently read an article by a friend and fellow writer who made a valiant attempt at explaining her Holiday Blues with justifications ranging from the commercialization and forced expectations of Christmas to the sleep induced coma that is winter for the natural world. I’m paraphrasing here, of course, but she reveals what many feel about the onslaught of winter – shorter, colder days; the natural world shutting down, shriveling up and dying. She presents the coma in much better terms and with more positivity than I gave her credit for here, but her somber mood, like many people I know, is just shy of a mini-depression. For me personally, I have a cure!
Fall is by far my favorite time of year. The cool crisp nights and blustery days provide a freshness of air that excites me to no end. Much of that excitement is founded in the anticipation of winter. Many normal people view spring as a re-birthing introduction to the glory days of summer. Spring is the deep breath before the summer plunge. For me, fall is the deep breath before the wonderfully mysterious winter. The appreciation of winter often gets hidden with too much indoor activity. Yes, it’s cold outside. Yes, its often raining, cloudy, or possibly even snowing. Yes, staying in bed or by the fire is more appealing – even addictive – than going outside to the dying world. After all, why would anyone want to participate in the progression of death? Well, because the natural world is never dying, that’s why. In fact, for me, the natural world is more alive in the winter months than in the spring and summer when foliage is thick, the underbrush distorts the view of the land, bugs are manically searching for hosts, and the heat is…well, depressing. One walk in the woods during the winter months and I feel more alive than any other time of year.
The animals in the forest seem more active but in a quiet, productive way. Maybe it’s because they can be easily seen, heard, and appreciated. Maybe because I’m usually the only weirdo there. But, it seems animals are exposed yet not vulnerable. They are there for the viewing, to be soaked in by whoever wishes to brave the elements and join them in their open cold weather environs. The land itself is open to a new type of viewing. With the lack of underbrush and dense foliage, one gets a whole new appreciation for the shape of the land. The confluence of ravines, the steepness or gradual-ality of the slopes, the sheer number of trees as they stand independently from each other without the ‘combining effect’ of the leaves – all these subtleties make me realize how alive the forest actually is during its ‘winter nap’. For me, there is an abundance of life in the solitude of a winter forest.
I could go on and on about the little nuances of the natural world in winter, but then I would appear like a tree hugger – something I’m not yet willing to expose about myself. But, I have to admit, seeing winter as a time of exciting mystery in the natural world is something that I cherish like a juicy secret that makes a person hold a suspicious smile. I like to think it’s my secret. And with that secret, my soul gets inundated with endorphin-like rushes of excitement as November gently folds into December. It’s a secret that is sustained through late February each year until I begin to feel the rebirth that is spring. Unfortunately for me, spring brings about the end of my secret and the anxiety of everyone else waking up in the world. The woods no longer belong to me at that point as I’m forced to share them with people praising the end of a dreary dream. My suspicious smile returns only when they ask me what I dreamt about during my winter nap.
Fall is by far my favorite time of year. The cool crisp nights and blustery days provide a freshness of air that excites me to no end. Much of that excitement is founded in the anticipation of winter. Many normal people view spring as a re-birthing introduction to the glory days of summer. Spring is the deep breath before the summer plunge. For me, fall is the deep breath before the wonderfully mysterious winter. The appreciation of winter often gets hidden with too much indoor activity. Yes, it’s cold outside. Yes, its often raining, cloudy, or possibly even snowing. Yes, staying in bed or by the fire is more appealing – even addictive – than going outside to the dying world. After all, why would anyone want to participate in the progression of death? Well, because the natural world is never dying, that’s why. In fact, for me, the natural world is more alive in the winter months than in the spring and summer when foliage is thick, the underbrush distorts the view of the land, bugs are manically searching for hosts, and the heat is…well, depressing. One walk in the woods during the winter months and I feel more alive than any other time of year.
The animals in the forest seem more active but in a quiet, productive way. Maybe it’s because they can be easily seen, heard, and appreciated. Maybe because I’m usually the only weirdo there. But, it seems animals are exposed yet not vulnerable. They are there for the viewing, to be soaked in by whoever wishes to brave the elements and join them in their open cold weather environs. The land itself is open to a new type of viewing. With the lack of underbrush and dense foliage, one gets a whole new appreciation for the shape of the land. The confluence of ravines, the steepness or gradual-ality of the slopes, the sheer number of trees as they stand independently from each other without the ‘combining effect’ of the leaves – all these subtleties make me realize how alive the forest actually is during its ‘winter nap’. For me, there is an abundance of life in the solitude of a winter forest.
I could go on and on about the little nuances of the natural world in winter, but then I would appear like a tree hugger – something I’m not yet willing to expose about myself. But, I have to admit, seeing winter as a time of exciting mystery in the natural world is something that I cherish like a juicy secret that makes a person hold a suspicious smile. I like to think it’s my secret. And with that secret, my soul gets inundated with endorphin-like rushes of excitement as November gently folds into December. It’s a secret that is sustained through late February each year until I begin to feel the rebirth that is spring. Unfortunately for me, spring brings about the end of my secret and the anxiety of everyone else waking up in the world. The woods no longer belong to me at that point as I’m forced to share them with people praising the end of a dreary dream. My suspicious smile returns only when they ask me what I dreamt about during my winter nap.
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