I quite like winter. (I like all of the seasons except spring, which I think is highly over-rated with it’s gales, lambs dead in sudden snow storms and obnoxious daffodils.) However, last week slammed me with a sick kid and then I caught his cold, too. By Thursday I was feeling kind of old-to-the-bones and deeply cranky and like the world is a grey old pointless place. This is a fairly common late winter experience, right? It’s all trucking along fine: winter soups, heater-side snuggles, catching up on the reading of long convoluted novels and other winter goodness and then SLAM! one snot-fest later and you are capital-O OVER winter as a concept and as a reality.
So I wrapped up my sore throat in a scarf and took myself out for a cafe lemon & honey drink, in search of a little colour in my week of winter-drear.
It was a beautiful Manawatu morning. I got a bit of much needed sunshine on my pallid face, treated myself to a free vitamin-D hit, a pretty cake (turned out I couldn’t taste it through my congestion so I took it home for the kids, but it cheered me just to look at it for a while) and spotted some cool yarn-bombing in a winter tree. It was just enough to take the edge off the winter-grims for a bit.
Begone snot-monsters, winter drear, wet window-inners, black mould, hacking coughs, and silverbeet silverbeet and then silverbeet again.