|Rock salt. So much rock salt... via|
This winter is the first time in years that I am not taking off anywhere immediately after New Year's... whoa. It's a novel thing for the holidays not to be tinged with sadness (leaving the Boyf, packing up my gifts because most can't come with me, trying to mentally prepare for a change of space) or with the excitement of movement.
Instead, there's that particular New Englandiness of watching the seasons, the truly northern interest in weather as it shapes moods and days. There's a home to care for (which still surprises me every day), and the realization that my inability to sit still will probably not ever change.
And I haven't had a proper winter in years, either, the kind of winter that stretches, where snow stops being novel and become sad, Aprils when the damned stuff won't melt and you find yourself in a skirt and t-shirt stepping over icy piles. And the continued planning for a time when I can hop a plane again (and maybe convince Boyfie -- nope, that nickname won't stick -- to come with me).
The winter blahs haven't even hit me yet (Boston is still snowless and sunny...), but I have got to admit that I am sorta terrified for when they do...