The pitter-patter of little sleet

Finally, it's winter in Pennsylvania--I mean, real winter with snow and its natural consequences, skiing (sigh, maybe one day . . .) and, more realistically, snow shoveling.

I say snow, but what I really mean is Punxsutawney Phil's February friend, the dreaded "wintry mix" of snow, sleet, and freezing rain. And how would you like a little more snow on top of your snow? Oh and how about some high winds? And perhaps some closed highways? And then maybe some mixed messages from your employers about whether you should attempt to prove your commitment to the institution (you're committed alright, or at least you should be by now) by rattling your aging, all-wheel-drive Subaru with somewhat indifferent gas mileage and a general lack of aesthetic appeal over the slush and ruts of 30 miles of highway?

Actually, no real complaints here about winter or even about work. Any whining in evidence is just my usual, woebegone reflex to a situation that I perceive might not go the way I want it to. Said reaction comes down to being part of my personality or my psychosis, take your pick. Said reaction also comes down to the fact that I was banking on a snow day. And as luck would have it, I was able to cash in--I got the day off.

Despite the whiff of bitchin' in the air, I'm actually glad to have some snow on the ground and a chill in the air. Last winter was worse, not in terms of cold or snow, just in terms of dull, depressing monotony--leaden gray skies, chilly temps bringing the aches and pains of winter without any of the beauty of the season, and again with the blustery winds! What was I in the middle of, a polar remake of Hurricane? And me without my Mitangi to keep me warm and safe. Blech.

As I've noted before, I have come to appreciate winter since I went without it for so long. Snow and all that accompanies it is still a novel experience--I never really saw that much growing up in North Carolina and only a little more living in D.C. all those years. So it has come to pass that in just a few short years since moving back east, I've find myself looking forward to the season. It just doesn't seem right if there isn't some frozen precip on the ground and a few heavy snow warnings to stir things up. I like the primal struggle against the elements that winter provides--the butch routines of building fires, of shoveling snow, of maneuvering on icy roads, trying not to run off a slick spot and into a ditch.

But who am I kidding? I'm a gay man. What I really like about cold weather are the sweaters and accessories. Mind you, I could do without winter's bulky garments, but cashmere sweaters! Turtlenecks! Balaclavas! (Balaclava! Even the name sounds illicit! Somewhere on the continuum between nunchaku and profiteroles. Oh my!) Thus, winter offers up the perfect nexus of style-with-a-purpose and conspicuous consumption.

There are downsides to winter, of course--the pitter-patter (more like the terrible twos) of sleet on my bedroom window at 4 AM. The endless crawl of closings and delayed openings across the TV screen (apparently the owners of Flinchy's Diner, located somewhere in Cumberland County, felt the need to let everyone know they were closing at 3 PM today--Adam and Eve on a raft, frozen! Duly noted, Flinchy, duly noted--and excellent marketing, by the by, as now I am simply forced to look you up in the phone book and seek you out some Saturday morn'). And let's not forget, despite its butch street cred, the challenges of dislodging the layers of snow, sleet, and freezing rain from my deck, back stairs, and front door.

In the latter case, sometimes I got lucky with the shoveling, as evidenced in the photo above, and was able to break off great chunks of the stuff. At other times, well, let's just say I have a pretty nifty bobsled run off my back deck, down the stairs, and, when the door is open, right into my garage. Les jeux olympiques d'hiver au Moyen Pennsylvanie, as it were. With a little practice, I expect to medal in the flat-on-my-ass one-man luge competition.

Another downside for me is that I often feel SAD during the winter (seasonal affective disorder, or whatever, the winter blues, the winter blahs, the winter why-was-I-put-here-on-this-planet-to-endure-this-endless-inanity-known-as-modern-life?, the winter good-lord-could-you-be-more-full-of yourself?). But I've been trying little things to lift my spirits when the worst of it starts to creep into my system.

I get out of the house, if possible, and enjoy the sunshine, even if it is hovering around 20F with windchills in the negative numbers. I take a wine appreciation (more about that soon) or cooking class, then I cook or drink what I learn and eat it, too (not always recommended during the winter, but at least I'm well-fed and comforted). I rent movies or watch ones in my collection I've been meaning to for ages (series 1 and 2 of Little Britain, for example--anything funny, nothing depressing). I write (although, admittedly, inconsistently). I practice my newfound interests (and further proof of my middle-aged insanity) in origami and yoga. I plot my garden for the spring and watch the slow, steady progress of the container tulips I planted last fall, protected in my garage from the elements at least until mid-March.

And I try to find the beauty that is out there, as I hope these photos, taken from within and around my house earlier today, will illustrate.

I especially like the image of the two doves huddled together on a branch in the cold, which I shot from my dining room window this afternoon. Perfect for Valentine's Day, no?

To combat my SADness, I should note that I also try to find the humor in the season as well. The photo of the lovedoves, while in one view offering the promise of romance, represents more the perfect metaphor for my usual Valentine's Day, which more often than not finds me huddled up, out on a limb, in the cold, with some dumb pigeon, the two of us facing completely opposite directions from one another, and thus, with different, diametrically opposed perspectives on the world and life.

But even my subversive reaction to the dictatorship of Valentine's Day won't get me down today. We had snow! We had a snow day! I have a credit card with enough of a credit line to buy more sweaters online!

And when those realities fail to cheer me, I just keep reminding myself that spring--and allergy season--are just around the corner.