The Bleak Mid-Winter

 Tomorrow February begins, the official kick-off of the bleak mid-winter. I have written many times of my disdain for the month of February, so I will not rehash all of that again. We have all been trapped in our ice-encrusted neighborhoods for a week now. How worse can it get? February just looked at March and said, “Hold my beer.”

At this point I have exhausted all of my errand runs. Yesterday I wore out a second vacuum cleaner. Then I spent two delightful hours on the telephone with the IRS. I am here to tell you that if you want something to distract yourself from the chaos and confusion of Minnesota, try having a tax payment you made in 2025 recoded from the third quarter to the fourth quarter. Poor Gloria, my tax-payer assistance professional, placed me on hold no less than six times with the rehearsed phrase, “I’m going to put you on hold for 5 to 7 minutes.” Each time she did not disappoint. 

Looks like we are set up for our second hilariously busted forecast in a row, the much hyped 8-10 inch snowfall having morphed into a possible dusting. Despite the introduction of cayenne pepper laced bird food into our fancy new Bird Buddy device, the local squirrels seem unfazed, three of whom have already been picked off by my trusty Daisy Powerline 35 for their impertinence, one of the very few highlights of the past week.

And now my little grandson has his first ear infection…typical pre-February treachery.

But I am reminded that no matter how dreadful or delightful life can sometimes be, change is always right around the corner. Actually, I wrote something about this dynamic years ago. Yes…here it is:

In the summer no one thinks about the snow. Sitting at a feast table no one recalls the famine. In the season of peace no one listens for the drums of war. No one except me. I am always moved on to the next thing. And the next thing is always different. It is tiresome to receive a gift of new shoes and only being able to imagine them with holes. But, my gift has benefits. A run of bad luck or ill health is always about to end. It's always on to the next thing. If life seems bright and grand, it's about to turn wicked and dark. But a sick child is about to recover, the long miserable winter is about to give way to spring, crushing grief is about to melt into tender memory. It's what happens next that matters. Always... what happens next.