So this is what cabin fever feels like. In the past I have often heard people speak of cabin fever but I never quite understood the concept. After all, I was never restricted to my “cabin” I always had the ability to come and go as I pleased, or even as I did not please. Being able to go to work each day certainly distracted me and gave me plenty to do to keep my mind off the elements. The fact that the great out doors was not readily available rarely crossed my mind. Additionally, “young age” was no where as near as restrictive as my current age group (sometimes referred to as old age). I was never told not to shovel the snow. In fact, the opposite was often the case. Sometimes I even did just that. However, I must admit that over the years I became a fan of letting nature take its course. I felt that mother nature had a reason for dumping the snow on us, and who was I to interfere with her plans.
Since I no longer have the freedom to drive if/when/where I want, I feel further restricted and another few degrees have been added to my cabin fever temperature. One doesn’t know what one has until one no longer has it. If that last comment sounds philosophical, then I was successful in my attempt. I never knew or thought it was important and desirable to be able to pick up the car keys, step out side, and go wherever and whenever I wished. I never thought it was a privilege to do my wife’s bidding when she requested I go to the store for milk or bread. One caveat here, under know circumstances was it a privilege on those days when the weather put fear into the hearts of all that they may find themselves stranded without milk or bread and were compelled to empty the shelves at Kroger, just in case. On those particular days I would have preferred to exercise my choice to stay at home. One of the dangers in modern society that exists, but is not documented, is the danger of stepping in front of a shopping cart being propelled forward by an anxious house wife bent on getting to the milk aisle before anyone else.
As I sit here at my computer, looking out over the snow-covered yard, and writing this article I look forward to spring. The time of the year when the snow will melt, the rains will come and irrigate my yard so the weeds and dandelions can grow and flourish. The time when my dogs can run free again through the mud and muck and mire left by the melting snow and spring rains. The time when they can run through the house, leaving muddy foot prints in their wake as they jump on the couch, seeking our affection. . .wait, rewind. . .
As I sit here at my computer looking out over the snow-covered yard writing this article, I look forward to summer. The time of the year when the thermometer soars over ninety degrees, the grass needs to be watered because it has taken on a decidedly unhealthy appearance of light brown, when the garden has wilted, and the roses look pathetic. The time when the dogs refuse to get off the couch to go out in the heat, the time of the year . . . wait, rewind . .
As I sit here at my computer looking out over the snow-covered yard writing this article, I look forward to Autumn, the time of the year when the leaves turn beautiful colors, fall from the trees and hide the brown grass, the time of the year when they have to be raked, bagged, and put to the curb, the time . . . wait, .
Okay, I admit it. All four seasons have their pros and cons. All four seasons give us something to look forward to and something to dread. However, there is one thing I cannot figure out. Why is it that winter is three times longer than all the other seasons, combined?
Those are my thoughts, what are yours?
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