Winter Sun

You know those ads and photos of athletic young tanned skiers and snowboarders, enjoying the winter sun? Yeah … they’ve got it right. That Vitamin D thing is what we all need at this time of year.

Sure, I take the little capsules every morning, like pretty much everyone at this latitude should be doing. Even the Canadian government has officially recommended that everyone in that country do the same; the research is pretty clear on the subject, and in a marvelous piece of luck, it’s a wonderfully inexpensive supplement. As long as the label says D3, you’re good.

The sun is reflecting brightly today off the newly-fallen snow, and at midday the south side of the house felt, if not warm, at least not-cold enough to soak up some sunshine. I set a chair out in a protected corner and turned my face up for awhile – aaah, so warm. And suddenly, my memories came flooding in … being a kid and playing outdoors all year long: snow forts and snowmen in the winter, mazes shoveled through the deep snow, tunnels, snowball fights, skating on the pond; skiing in my teens and twenties, long days on the slopes alternately freezing on the lift and sweating on the downhill runs, blinded by the bright sun and dazzled by the mountain views. Snowshoeing through hushed, forested, frosted hills.

And more importantly, how it felt. How much I felt a part of the outdoor world in winter, how my memories are not of discomfort (although there were plenty of nearly-frostbitten fingers, wet boots, and that one time I thought I’d freeze to death from the wind chill on the stuck chair lift) but of enjoyment. Flying down the hill on the sled, pretty much out of control and deliriously happy. The look and feel of winter, the sounds of ice cracking and snow crunching, the sudden little snow squalls as the wind nudges the branches above your head, the cottony silence of the deep woods smothered in snow. The stark contrasts of red berries and evergreens against the white. The sharp wet-cold of fat flakes landing on your upturned face. Marveling at the many hues of blue in the white landscape. Standing at the top of the expert trail in terror, wondering if I’d survive the descent, exhilarated by the time I got to the bottom.

There was no cursing winter in those years, no dreading its arrival and lamenting its length. Winter meant a different kind of fun, a change in activity, and was something we all looked forward to. How that has changed! – and like so many things in life, it’s easy to marvel how I got from there to here incrementally, without realizing the implications. It’s devolved into that conundrum shared by so many, of loving New England but hating the winter. Sure, I know it’s a necessary part of the cycle, of tremendous importance to our environment and all that … but, still. I feel more like a burrowing creature now, wanting to curl up near the fire, concerned with the cost of heating the house and worried about slipping on the ice and falling again. Winter is work now, shoveling the snow and hauling in wood and feeding the furnace. It’s a workplace kept uncomfortably cool, where I leave at the end of my shift feeling chilled to the bone despite wearing layers of clothing. I count the days until the average last frost date, calculating when to start seeds indoors, looking forward to the next growing season. And I take my Vitamin D and cod liver oil to keep SAD at bay.

Of course there are ways to combat the dark and the cold, and yes, I should find a way to incorporate some new thinking into my winter plans. Realistically, though, life changes. I’m not going to spend a small fortune to get myself onto the ski slopes again, and nobody will have the fire burning, dinner on the table, and a mug of hot chocolate waiting if I spend the day adventuring in the snow. But I do know a nearly-six-year-old with a pair of snowshoes; I think I’ll start saving up for a pair for myself. Maybe she’ll be my occasional snow buddy, and there’ll be more to enjoy about winter again.

What's winter like for you? What do you do to enjoy it?