Snow's Coming

by Jean Marie Moffa
November 17, 2005

Snow's coming. This week.

Here in Michigan, the season's first snow is on its way. (Weren't we just picking apples last month?) Counting on my fingers, from this year's final spring snow in April (making it a very sobering weekend of house hunting) to this November, I come up with six months. Six snow-free months, and six snowing ones, each year.

I am a candidate for SAD--Seasonal Affective Disorder. Depression that hits hard during the light-compromised, cold and gray months of winter (and fall and spring, here &.) Seven years in the South--twelve, if you count southern Indiana--was good balm for a girl raised in north-eastern Ohio's snow belt. And enough to make me soft.

As I try to wrap my mind around what the next six months will hold, tempering the anxiety as best I can, I do find myself noticing that the instinct to survive, and even thrive, is within me, and seems to be alive and well. Just as something within me knew during the early stages of our move, that hypericum berries and homemade yogurt were the stuff of sustenance, so am I discovering that my senses are primed for survival during the coming months.

It began this summer, as I was choosing colors for the walls of our house. I heard myself say, in passing, and with utter clarity, that I needed the colors to warm and sustain me, through the cold winter. No grays or silvered greens and blues. Rather, an array of muted golds; rich, thick green; deep, bricked, earthy red.

Then, the crock pot. Sold my last one at our garage sale, before we moved, because I never really liked anything I made in it. Busy fall schedules got me rethinking and researching. A new, more versatile pot, a fantastic cookbook, and I am trying a handful of new recipes each week, from appetizer to dessert, with great results. More than convenient and efficient: soul-warming.

Next, the boots and coat. I wasn't out shopping for them. They found me. Serious gear for serious cold. For staying warm. Because it's a lot easier to be happy in the cold when I'm not. Soon, we were choosing sleds and long underwear for Julia and Margot. Plans are in the works for ice skates (for the pond in our neighborhood) and skis (Mount Brighton is just 5 minutes from our house.) We won't settle for simply staying warm this winter--we will play together in it, and I will relearn how to have fun in the snow.

Last night, I finally began hanging pictures, in earnest, making the inside of this house feel more like our home. I've been baking everyday--pumpkin cake, apple cake, oat scones &what for today? The inner drive to heat up the ovens each day has surprised even me. And this morning, the girls and I chose a bird feeder, installing it for the winter's hungry birds, whom we'll admire from indoors. What birds will come? What birds are native to Michigan? We're already getting ready to learn.

This snow that's coming has me focused, alright. Focused on nesting. On staying the course, as happily as can be. On meeting needs for survival, sustenance and even joy, in the cold. And it didn't start out as a grand plan--or, rather, a plan that I was aware of. It revealed itself, piece by piece. From within. Virtually unbeknownst to myself (despite myself?) something instinctual kicked in, countering my conscious thoughts of fear and anxiety. Moving me forward.

What a thrill to realize that in times of anxious waiting, we still can--and do--know what to do, even when we feel overwhelmed. Even when our minds attempt to convince us otherwise. Our senses will lead the way, bringing needed comfort, if we let them be, if we listen.

I would be lying, of course, if I suggested that I'm excited about the next six months. Winter has not yet earned Most Favored Season status. My anxiety remains, but now with the hope of working through it, one piece at a time, once sense at a time. I am choosing to warm myself and my family with rich colors and art, good smells and tastes, sturdy coats and boots, thrilling sleds and skis, and the view of birds coming to eat outside my window. Though each one of these tactics emerged in its own time and way, I see now that within me there is a bigger picture of acceptance in play. With these choices, I make yet another: to stay the course.

Snow's coming.