Curing winter blahs requires plan

By Fran Blank: If I had my druthers my calendar would read May - October - May - October - May - October - Spring - Fall - Spring - Fall. The smells and colors of spring and fall have always filled me with happiness. Dark winter days have a way of dragging me to lethargy and sadness.

One winter day I turn around to find that a certain body part is starting to leave a fairly deep dent in the seat cushion of my favorite chair. I've seen that dent before and it's not a good sign. That dent tells me to GET UP!

I know that the short days of winter send me in a downward spiral of inactivity and sadness. Intellectually I understand that after Dec. 21, the days grow minute-by-minute longer. Unfortunately, my brain doesn't register this slow increase until March or even April.

I need a kick in the pants. I need conversation. I need a project to focus on. I need intellectual stimulation. I need physical activity. If I want to greet spring in shape for gardening I need to change my ways.

Every article I've ever read that is written to tell gardeners what they should be doing to fill winter's downtime includes the rhetorical question, "What could be better than sitting by a crackling fire with a mug of hot chocolate, curled up with your seed catalogs, ordering seeds, and planning your summer garden?"

First of all, the whole planning process hardly takes more than a week of evenings. Then what? Winter's dark days loom. Also, all this "curling up" equals no exercise and if I add those mugs of hot chocolate into the equation all I get is a bigger dent in the seat cushion of my favorite chair. I say gardeners beware!

Sooo -- I have started a list of options. If you struggle with the same winter blahs perhaps my list will inspire you to begin your own list or maybe pick one of my ideas and get moving.

I have always wanted to learn to knit and past projects were not pretty. Unfortunately, I could never figure out how to end my projects. Everything I knit always keeps getting bigger and bigger, like the washcloth project that is now a blanket for the cat basket. Knitting lessons are a top priority this winter.

I miss outdoor activity and fresh air and I think my tiredness is a lack of sunshine and vitamin D. I need to step out into winter and walk. I also think I'll start building snowmen. Maybe I'll build a series of snowmen. Maybe I'll build my version of the statues of "The Four Seasons."

Winter will have a hat and scarf and maybe hold a snow shovel. Spring will have a halo of flowers on her head and a garden spade in her hand. Summer can hold a basket and wear sun glasses and a garden hat. Fall can hold a rake and wear a flannel shirt. None of my snowmen will be as elegant as the real Italian marble Four Seasons statues. Even so, they will connect me to winter and help that deepening cushion dent disappear.

I have also come to the conclusion that, even though I love solitary time, it is other people that always infuse me with happiness and energy. When I reach out to others I feel this phenomenon again and again.

A phone call to my 91-year-old and very energetic mother always lifts me up. A long phone conversation with our daughter in Columbus makes me smile and inspires me to get moving. An e-mail of funny photos from my cousin Mary Ann makes us laugh out loud. The headlights and rumble of our neighbor Neal's tractor in our drive on a dark snowy evening lets us know we will be able to get the car out in the morning. We repay this kindness a few days later with a hot-out-of-the-oven homemade pizza, personally delivered just in time for supper.

A phone call from neighbor Patty asking about a beloved kitty we recently lost reminds us we are cared for. A call from friend Lisa telling us about a kitty desperate for adoption has brought us a new family member. Blue-eyed, part Siamese, part Tabby, six-month-old, Gracie May Tinklepants (Tinklepants because she is the most timid kitty!) is now safely making her slow transition from living out in the cold to spending her days cuddled in a nest of pillows on our bed. Greg and I give thanks to new friends Pat and Jean for trusting us with beautiful Gracie May. She brings us much joy.

So many dear people affect our days. These human connections send energy and happiness. These connections make winter slide by. I know I'll never have May - October - May - October. The long, dark days of northern Ohio winters are inevitable. My winter motto has become: Keep busy. Reach out. And -- I never thought I'd say this -- pray for snow. A snowman's life depends on it.