The Weight of Winter

After less than nine hours of daylight, the sky reaches down, touches the earth and the two seal up like a clam—leaving us in the premature, murkiness of night.

For those who need the light, the quiet weight of darkness can be crushing. To maintain wellness during these shortened days, I look for light elsewhere—in the glow of a fire, the sunlight catching snowflakes, the smile of a child. 

Outside in the prairie’s pitch blackness, winter's silence is broken by the howls of coyotes alerting each other to their whereabouts. The nighttime predators, from cats to skunks, slip through the shadows mostly unnoticed in search of their next meal. And the buffalo are on the move, grazing to stay warm and nourished—sustaining enough calories to get them through.

For us humans who live in sub-zero, winter temperatures, it is difficult to get excited about going out and about. Perhaps if it were necessary to find our next meal, there would be more incentive. This is when I’m perfectly happy to stay pent-up, grateful for the modern conveniences of food in the larder, and the appliances that house and heat the food.

During the deep winter, I no longer try to fight the darkness—instead, I give into it with a winter hibernation sleep pattern and go to bed early. Early to bed means early to rise and the coffee is made long before there is any sign that time has moved forward, even though ten hours have passed. On the cold, lightless, weekend mornings when the rush to start your day isn’t necessary, the aroma of coffee beckons the accompaniment of sausage and a stack of pancakes with real maple syrup. The warm, golden elixir glows as it's poured over the cakes, swirling with the butter before it drips over the edges like a slow-moving waterfall. I like my pancakes thin, with crispy edges and a creamy, malty flavor. The first bite is instant pleasure and it lingers all the way to the last mouthful of the sausage that mopped the plate of any remaining sticky goodness. I am happily satiated by the time daybreak's show begins.

A crack in the seal appears in the form of a thin red ribbon, prying the sky loose from the earth. A new day is dawning and each following day forward will be a little earlier than the last. On some mornings the seal doesn't crack, winter clouds loom heavy and low, changing the darkness to a shroud of whiteness. It is beautiful though, as the light seeps through, spotlighting only the things that can touch it. It is also magical—and in the magic of it, we know it will disappear, we just don’t know when. So, we cope with the weight of winter the best we can, although that coping is different for each of us... 

I personally recommend hibernation sleep, time with family & friends and “weekend” breakfasts of sausage and pancakes covered in golden maple syrup. That’s how the light gets in.