When our big, boisterous, beloved family dog was young, on the rare occasions when it snowed in our part of the country, she delighted in winter’s wonder. She would roll around in the white stuff, blink in bewilderment as flakes floated down onto her nose, and, as usual — chase a ball or a stick, jump in the air to catch a frisbee, and romp around with my little boys who were equally excited in the snow.
Routinely, though she knew she was not supposed to, she would bound into the woods that backed up to our small suburban property. Hours later, she would wander home when she was good and ready, muddy and gleeful, with a sheepish smile on her face.
I used to grin seeing her with my little one – she would try to sit in his lap, and unintentionally, knock him over in the process (as he giggled). And she frequently slept in his bed with him, cozied right up against his little form. At 80 pounds, she weighed far more than he did, and she surely took up more room in the bed as well.
As she grew older, she slowed a bit, of course. The crazy antics that were a part of her day — she was happy and wacky whatever the season, really — grew fewer. She mellowed. When the weather turned especially chilly, she was likely to hop up on the couch with my younger son, who was by then a lanky teen, or even with me on my bed, curling up against the warmth of a body or being snuggled under a blanket. No need for play, just our company, our reassurance.
I find, these past few days, I am thinking about that beautiful dog, her extraordinary gentleness, and the pure contentment that seemed to show in her expression.
Though I am weary of cold temperatures, gazing out the window at an especially lovely snowfall 24 hours ago, I thought of the dog and my little boys as they made the most of two or three days of snow — wildly, madly, joyfully. I thought of how winter changes as we change, how it delights us as children, and as adults, can drain us as it drags on. And I thought of how moments of madness — “good” madness, destructive madness — can seem to own us (or our playful pets).
Winter, especially midwinter, can wear on the sensibilities. It definitely wears on mine. And madness — madness emerging out of so many phenomena, out of the dark corners of the human mind — can turn us against ourselves in ways that are potentially devastating.
Devastating not only to us, but to others.
There are times when the world seems so cruel, so unbearably insane, so painful that I just want to crawl under the covers and not even look out. If I dare to look, I feel as if all I dare is a peek. A peek from my hiding place.
To say that there is more madness in the world than ever is stating the obvious. Or perhaps it just seems closer, and life seems more fragile with the years, and the combination can feel overwhelming at times.
For me to say that we are sitting at midwinter in the northern hemisphere, fully cognizant that many regions of the US and Canada have far more brutal temperatures to deal with than where I now reside, and months yet to tolerate, is also stating the obvious. But when we put midwinter together with madness, a subject I’ve been contemplating for the past few days and nights, I wonder about the ways that each of us deals with troubled times, seeking to comfort ourselves and those around us. And I keep returning to images of my boys and our dog.
I see her jubilant play when she was young, and her intense desire to snuggle up with someone who loved her. And her smile. Through almost everything, she smiled.
I find such sweetness and solace in images of her with my children, going through boxes of photographs or simply the reel I can run through my head. For that matter, seeing anyone’s children content and at play eases what crazies me on the days when the world seems too brutish to fathom. Children are our most precious gift.
If midwinter has given me the blues, intensified by recent events in the news, I have memories that comfort me. And values that drive me to learn, speak, act.
I may still spend a few hours here and there under those covers. Yet when you feel like you must withdraw or hide or comfort yourself, what is better than taking shelter beneath that blanket?
Here’s what is better. Not doing so alone.
Company. A loved one, a friend, an acquaintance, a companion… so you aren’t alone facing midwinter or madness, much less both simultaneously.
Here is something else that fortifies, that encourages, that inspires: seeing the many ways that young people, just teenagers, children still, though they are forced to grow up too fast, children who have just been traumatized, can inspire us — student survivors standing up and fighting the good fight.
I admire those who stand up for what they believe. I may pull the blanket over my head for an hour or a day or even longer, but I would like to think that I too am someone who will always get back up (or out of bed) to fight the good fight.
To do otherwise, in any season, is madness of another kind.
How do you face troubled times? Does midwinter make you feel antsy… or worse? Do you find that you deal with Seasonal Affective Disorder, or SAD, in midwinter or as winter is nearing inits end? Who or what inspires you these days?
And… be sure to check out this reflection on midwinter madness from the south of France.
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The hush of a new snowfall, the blinding brightness of sunshine on snow, those things I miss. We saw a few flakes before Christmas (they didn’t stick), and it was hilarious to watch the kids who were out all doing the same things–trying to catch them, with their hands or their tongues. Or just leaning their heads back to let the flakes dissolve on their faces. Snow really brings joy. Until you have to shovel it.
Right. Shoveling. Definitely not a joy!
It’s snowing here in Portland, Oregon as I read this — and, yes, you captured my mood exactly — along with some strikingly similar memories. Your post warmed me up on this unusually cold day. You stay warm too!
❤️❄️?
Snow is a joy. Until it’s been around for three months, then you just want it gone. Ha. Still, I’d never give up the four seasons we have to have less of winter. Okay… maybe a little more fall and a little less winter would be good.
Funnily enough we had a cat who loved to play in the snow. She’d pounce in over her head and bound up, chasing snowballs or whatever moved.
Lovely, lovely post DA. Thanks.
You have a few more months of the white stuff, don’t you, Sue? (No wonder you’re dreaming of spring fashions!)
While I do not enjoy wrapping myself in layers, driving on ice, or the loss of sunlight, snow days give me permission to slow down, to be quiet, or to pick up that unfinished novel that had been put aside, out of guilt, for all that demands my attention. Yet, as the first flakes fall, I travel back to when my daughter was a child and schools were closed in homage to those grand, white flakes. We would pack up Licorice, our beautiful Shepherd, and drive the mile to my mother’s house, where she and my sister had already begun preparation of our traditional snow day lunch.
Though there have been many changes in our snow day activities since, the one constant has always been the presence of a wagging tail and a wet nose. Rescues, all, they are eternal reminders of triumph over trial, offering comfort in those moments when life and the world seem darkest. With one upturned ear, a wag of a tail, and a smile that holds the inner sole of your favorite shoe, you remember how to laugh.
Your comment makes me smile. I can picture the snow, your Licorice, that wagging tail. Lovely.
Yesterday we finally gave in to the inevitable – we turned the A/C on. But while we are pretty clearly past the time of freezing temperatures, we are still in the time of continual dreary days, so Seasonal Affective Disorder is most certainly an issue.
Sometimes you do have to look hard for something to value. I see it in communities who pull together in times of tragedy. People who are helping each other, even when they are suffering immeasurably in their own right. People who discuss difficult issues with restraint, even when it may be taking all their effort (and people who do so with seemingly little restraint, but who are doing their best). People who examine their own assumptions. People who use tragedy to become more involved with the issues which affect them or their values. People who take tragedy to find meaning, realizing that at heart we are not really as different as we sometimes seem.
I’ll confess – One thing that helps me deal with tragedy, as well as fill me with wonder and hope, is the Bloom County cartoon on Facebook. Between Opus, the penguin (and proxy for everyone with feelings) and the community responses, I always come away feeling there is hope for humanity.
❤️?
Like Robert, I have my little slice of comedy relief right before I go to sleep by a quick read:
Thoughts of Dog at dog_feelings on Twitter.
It is quite enjoyable, cute and funny, becomes a diary story, if you follow the life of Dog and learn Dog vocabulary!
Maree and you other dog lovers❤️, I read it to my dogs as our good nite story. I think you all would love it too!
I also use sunlight therapy to assist with moods of SAD. In my Austin house, I used the goose neck floor lamp, Verilux Original Natural Spectrum to provide the sunshine that I was missing during the winter months during the 1980’s through 1996 and took it with me to Denver. Although Denver has sunshine year round, the winters are an additional 3 months and too cold to naturally sun outside. My condo for 5 years had no sunshine coming into the home and I was working the 9-10 hours inside office work with no windows.
I had a boyfriend for a few years who had removed his dinning table to use that space where the sunshine came into his house. I would enjoy the weekends laying on blankets or use floor chairs in the sunshine.
When we decided not to marry, I sold my condo in 2001 and purposely bought a patio home that was like a three window terrarium. Sunshine came inside from the east, south and west. So I had plenty of places to lay and sit in the sun at deferent times of the day.
I no longer needed to used my Verilux natural spectral lamp. The lamp lasted well over 20 years and only needed to replace the bulb once. I used it every morning, enjoying coffee and a book before work and on weekends.
I just checked to see if the company is still in business and you can purchase them online at Amazon. Ha! If you suffer from SAD like I did, I think one may be a benefit.
In my patio home now on the Island in Corpus, I set up the front master bedroom as a second relaxation room with recliners (instead of a bed). I can scoot the recliner to the sunshine coming in the morning east window. My dogs benefit too using the love seat to look out the window and sun themselves. ?
Hope these ideas might be helpful!
Dogs. Their innocence and joy. I cannot imagine having raised my boys without them. I can still see middle son lying face forward on the tiles, one arm hooked over Daisy, the other underneath, thumb surreptitiously in mouth. Consoling self. Learning how to love and be loved.
In my Austin house, I used the goose neck floor lamp, Verilux Original Natural Spectrum to provide the sunshine that I was missing during the winter months during the 1980’s through 1996 and took it with me to Denver. Although Denver has sunshine year round, the winters are an additional 3 months and too cold to naturally sun outside. My condo for 5 years had no sunshine coming into the home and I was working the 9-10 hours inside office work with no windows. I had a boyfriend for a few years who had removed his dinning table to use that space where the sunshine came into his house. I would enjoy the weekends laying on blankets in the sunshine. When we decided not to marry, I sold my condo in 2001 and purposely bought a patio home the was like a three window terrarium, sunshine came inside from the east, south and west so I had plenty of places to lay and sit in the sun at deferent times of the day. I no longer needed to used my Verilux natural spectral lamp. The lamp lasted well over 20 years and only needed to replace the bulb once. I used it every morning, enjoying coffee and a book before work and on weekends. I just checked to see if the company is still in business and you can purchase them online at Amazon. Ha! If you suffer from SAD like I did, I think one may be a benefit. In my patio now on the Island in Corpus, I set up the front master bedroom as a second relaxation room with recliners that I can scoot to the sunshine coming in the morning east window. My dogs too benefit using the love seat to look out the window and sun themselves.
Like Robert, I have my little slice of comedy relief right before I go to sleep by a quick read:
Thoughts of Dog
@dog_feelings on Twitter.
It is quite enjoyable, cute and funny, becomes a diary story, if you follow the life of Dog and learn Dog vocabulary!
Maree, I read it to my dogs as our good nite story. I think you would love it too!