January 6 has been reported as the saddest day of the year, and for a lot of reasons that’s tough to dispute. Everyone is throwing out their Christmas tree carcasses, the blush of the holiday season has long since passed, and the endless winter lays ahead without much hope or promise. For me, though, early January is filled with a freshness that’s not present at any other time of the year. I find early March or mid-to-late November the periods that strike me as the most depressing. In March, one is keenly aware of the length of winter, and it often brings its worst storms then. By late November, the trees have all turned brown and mostly discharged their leaves, leaving the landscape stark and barren, and the skies gray and dirty.
In January, there is still the freshness of snow, when it drops its white cloak on the ground and lights up the surroundings when sun or moon reflect their glow. It’s still possible to embrace the cold, to find wonder and beauty in the formations of ice, and to enjoy the winter wonderland. That won’t last long, and I see and hear a lot of complaints already. I suggest we find the good in what is at hand. The alternative is bitterness, and that won’t make the winter pass any quicker.
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