Out of the Cold

I came home from church tonight, ate dinner, and promptly fell asleep for nearly three hours.

I hate the cold. I hate this time of year, with the dropping thermometer and short days. On the way to mass tonight my mom said as much, and declared that next week she'd be going on Sunday mornings for the duration of Winter. I've always liked the 5:00 mass on Saturday because it meant I could sleep late on a Sunday. There were plenty of times in my early 20s when I'd be out all day and pretty late on a Saturday, and have to drag myself out of bed on Sunday sometimes with less than 2 or 3 hours' worth of sleep. It was never a pleasant feeling. I don't know how my dad consistently goes to mass at 7AM every week. It probably helps to go to bed at nine, but I've never liked going to bed early any more than getting up early. I always have the feeling that I'm “missing” something, even if I have no plans for the evening anyway. So I was certain that I'd continue going on my own on Saturdays, since my mom would have no trouble driving herself during the daytime on Sunday.

When we got out of church it was cold, that bitter sudden cold that embraces you like a virus, finds its way through multiple layers of clothing and flesh to wrap itself around your bones and set up camp, the kind that stays with you even with the heat on full blast in the car. When we got home, my coat stayed on for a long time and though I was warmer by the time I finished eating, I just couldn't keep my eyes open. I lay in bed fighting it for a long time, and apparently I lost. I had plenty of sleep the night before, and slept almost until noon. Something about this time of year instills an uncontrollable urge to hibernate. I don't want to wake up until the days are longer and the weather is warmer. Most days that's just not a realistic option.

It was nice and sunny today, the perfect day to get out a ladder and clean the last leaves from the gutters around the house. The trees are nearly bare and soon there won't be much more raking to do. Soon it will be time to shovel snow. I'm not sure what will happen with my Photo Blog Wednesday as the seasons change. I have a few weeks' worth of archived images that I haven't gotten to yet, from various places I went in October that I haven't gotten to share yet. Earlier this week I documented a family milestone that will appear in a few days. When the snow is on the ground, I'll certainly capture a few winter scenes. Beyond that, I'm not sure. The feature doesn't get many comments, and I sometimes wonder if people are getting bored with the subject matter. “Oh look, MCF shot more trees. There's a beach. Hey, the birds are alive in this one.” Et cetera. At some point I'd still like to shoot some architecture and landmarks in Manhattan, and switch up from the potential nature overload. I might get a better camera before doing so, and will be researching that very soon. The city can get cold this time of year though, and I'm not sure how much time I'm willing to spend outside. Next Saturday night I have to play in an annual holiday parade, and I know I'm going to freeze no matter how I dress. I'm just glad the Baroque quartet I used to play tree lightings with broke up a few years ago. Late December is an even worse time for outdoor gigs.

The good news is I'll have more time for writing and reading on weekends, so there's that at least. After my escape to a veritable beachfront paradise last week during unseasonably high temperatures, the cold is a rude awakening or, in my case, rude sudden uncontrollable napping.