Making the best of an endless winter

As a kid, I loved winter. I skated on the pond at the nearby snowy public golf course. The warming hut had a pot-bellied stove and I toasted my mittens on it to the smell of burnt wool.

At home I fashioned a window seat of quilts on the radiator. I read Nancy Drew books and drank hot chocolate. My brothers spent days on flexible flyer sleds and we came in to get warmed up so we could get outside in the snow again.

I loved winter when I was a young adult and learned to ski. Until my mid-70s, I looked forward to winter and being on the mountain. Following a bad accident I sold my gear and joined the crowd of seniors who cruise during the winter and seek warm destinations.

Now in my 80s I am increasing confined indoors with an angry sense of all I am missing by sitting by the fire. My thoughts run to the fact old age sucks and I am experiencing the old-age crisis of knowing my physical strength is gone for good.

I am not happy. I am living the winter of our discontent big-time. The holidays are behind me and I am left with dry fruitcake and scrawny poinsettias that only accent the layers of dust on every surface.

The joy of the season escapes me as I discount the company of my adorable pets and loving companion. The brave lights on the Eastern Redbud in our garden dim in my vision now and I see only the tired piles of snow against the sidewalk.

Don’t even think about the Visa account.

I determine to rest, reflect and snuggle up with good books and drink more hot rum. I consider the real meaning of the darkness. I embrace the reality that we are born, we grow, we fade and we die.

I have time to consider the endlessness of time. I muse on my many failings and disappointments as well as my accomplishments. I see that the winter solstice is at the top of the sacred circle of the year.

I see that the natural confinement of winter days and nights give us the opportunity to transform ourselves even as we grow old and decay. I sense a renewal, a new birth every day.

I am reconsidering the old habits and patterns of the past. If I don’t feel like putting on layers of clothes to prepare for an exercise class or pouring over yet another shopping list, I can choose to sit down with a second cup of coffee and watch the enormous snowflakes falling outside the window.

Inviting friends in or making the effort to go out for company becomes easy and fun.

I find that more spontaneity and less planning fills the days with a sense of joy I had thought I was losing.

Could it be that, now in my dotage, I am entering the Age of Enlightenment? I am beginning to grasp the meaning of ““living in the moment”” and that moment is spent in my bathrobe, putting peanuts on the deck railing for the magpies.

I am relaxing, not moving furniture, or getting at long put-off projects, like organizing my photo albums or updating my address book.

Perhaps old age sucks during the depth of winter. But what if the dreary days of winter are a gift to us unbeknown? What if resting, reflecting and long nights of dreaming are not the best gifts of all?

The recent Christmas was the merriest in memory. In my newfound mindfulness, I may proclaim this the best winter ever. Time will tell.

Just for fun, did you know a pogonip is a dense winter fog containing frozen particles?

Did you know Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri is the best movie in town?

Did you know the restaurant on Ellis across from the museum has the best ever Mexican menu?

The Dave Brubeck Quartet still plays the best jazz (Take Five) and good books abound. I loved The Liars’ Club, by Mary Karr. Also recommend The Dirty Life by Kristin Kimball, A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles, and Barbara Goldsmith’s Obsessive Genius.

I have a big winter day ahead of me. I am going to stretch out in my pyjamas and watch Mike plug in the slow cooker. Feels like heaven.

Jeanette Dunagan has lived in Kelowna for more than 40 years. Email her at jd2399@telus.net.