STUCK IN THE MIDDLE

Well, here we are again stuck in the middle of winter.  This is my least favourite time of the year.  Ever since I learned the meaning of the Doldrums I have used the term to describe the month of February.  Originally ‘the doldrums’ was what sailors called ocean spaces near the equator where there’s little to no wind for sailing vessels thereby leaving ships and their crews stuck motionless for long periods of time, but it also describes perfectly the vast, listless, light-deprived months of winter in the Northern Hemisphere.  The only sign of forward motion I can find these days is that sunrise is definitely later now than it was right after Christmas.  It’s a little thing, but very important for my seasonally susceptible sanity.

Now, before you all jump on me for complaining about my 2024 so far, I admit this particular year has been better than most.  There’s no way that spending time on a beach in Mexico wasn’t the best use of a week in January.  Add to that we took the grandkids (and their parents) with us and met even more extended family down there to celebrate a wedding. I am willing to admit this was one of my best Januarys ever. 

There was also that crazy frigid week before we left, but I was busy washing and packing beach clothes so I mostly ignored it, and the weather since we returned home has been something for the record books at the other end of the temperature scale.  Open water on the pond in front of our house and road bans because of mud in February are not signs of ‘boring’ or ‘usual’.

But these things are:

·         Thinking of an inspiring menu choice for the 18,797.5 suppers expected of me since signing on for this job.  It’s not fun anytime but winter is the worst.

·         Staring out the windows at a blah landscape of snow and bare trees and imagining how good it would be to smell fresh-mowed lawn and feel the sunshine on my shoulders.

·         Being so bored that I actually wish I could go out and clean said windows because the gal who did this job last fall was terrible at it.  She was probably trying to think of something to make for supper at the time.

·         Trying to squelch the urge to plant some seeds just to see green … BECAUSE IT’S WAY TOO EARLY! Anything planted now will get spindly and weak and die.  I don’t need to set myself up for that kind of depression and loss in February.

So to keep busy and encourage a sense of accomplishment, I pulled out that big stack of receipts and started income tax preparation.  After all, everyone needs a hobby, right?

I am told (by a daughter who does this kind of stuff as paid work) that my paper-and-pencil approach is from the dark ages.  I need Excell.  It will do all the math for me.  It’s neat and clean and files can be emailed with ease.  I’m not going to argue with her (it’s never worked anyway) but will carry on with a method I am comfortable with.  The job, now that we are in a kind of twilight zone of active farming, is barely a shadow of what it used to be.  The manual work reminds me of my early days at Canada Post where we used a daily ledger and balanced to the penny every night; a kind of trip down Memory Lane for me.  Also, I like that I can just flip open a book to look something up because I know where I wrote it down.  Learning Excell at this stage of the game might put my dwindling supply of brain cells at risk; a risk I’m not willing to take.

Besides, without this job, how am I going to keep myself from planting seeds way too early?

March is still 18 days away.  I know because I’ve been counting.  Not even three weeks and the spring winds will fill out my summer sails and push me out of the 2024 Doldrums.  I estimate it will be approximately 136 days before I’m complaining about heat and mousquitoes.