Hopeful...

February is a hard month for me.  And, for a lot of people, I think.  Especially here in the cold mountains.  It is that point in the year where I tire of the cold, the wind, the short days.  I long for sunshine, and heat.  Long days, balmy evenings, bare toes skimming through the hot grass.   I want to lay on my lawn, face in the shade, body in the sun, getting baked.  I want to wear flip-flops every day.  Or no shoes at all.  (I am a barefoot girl).  I want to wear sundresses made of light cotton that catch the breeze that occasionally blows through.  

I am like a cat.  I want to bask in that ray of sunshine that comes through the window and hits the floor.

Sadly, I do not have a south facing home, and in fact, there is only one south facing window in my house and it is small and shaded.  Lamentable, really.

My bedroom, fortunately, has a large window in it, unshaded mostly.  In that window is a chaise longue, a squishy, welcoming chaise, with a side table.  This is the spot that beckons me on a winter afternoon, in that too small space of time when the sun climbs past my roof and the trees and before it starts to descend below the roof of my neighbor.  It is the spot in which I like to lounge on a sultry summer afternoon, sun blazing through the window, fan blowing gently on my damp skin.

And, when I lounge thus, I don’t want to do anything, think anything.  I want to lay there, and absorb the glorious sunshine.

Don’t get me wrong, once I have been in the grips of 90+ degree weather for a time, I am as likely to whine about it as anyone.  But still, I can handle the heat better than the cold.  As long as it is dry heat.  Desert girl, for sure, here.

I have mentioned this before, but I shall again. Once, while in London, I had a horrible headache.  I lived in the city, amidst the tall buildings, the weather was  dreary, there had been no sun for awhile, and what sun there was only lasted moments.  I would sit in the window of my front room, catching what few rays I could.  But, on this day, I felt I had to get out of the city.  I took the Tube out to Kew Gardens and wandered about.  It wasn’t helping.  It was cloudy out at Kew as well, and cold, so I hied myself over to the greenhouses and wandered about there instead.  I came upon a small room, in the “regions of North America” section, and as I entered, it was as though I had walked into heaven.  Hot.  Dry.  Bright.  I looked down at the room label.  “Desert Climate-American Southwest”.  Ahhhh.  I could breathe properly.  I sat in there for a couple of hours and dried out.  Headache went away, breathing was clear.  It was paradise.  Or Zion, if you prefer. ;)

But alas, today is, as Pooh would say, a blustery day.  It is cold.  The sun is shining, but it is a thin sunlight, providing no warmth.  And so, to combat my current bout of Seasonal Affective Disorder, I planted another flat of seeds.  It makes me feel as though I can contend with the weather and perhaps conquer.  Despite the cold, despite the thin sunlight, I can start my warm, dry summer.  I love the smell of the loamy soil, the warmth that it generates in the little greenhouse.  (So does the cat, he keeps laying on top and squishing it.)  I love the sight of the little shoots pushing their way up toward the sun (or the artificial light hanging over them, you choose).  It makes me happy.  And gives me something to look forward to.