From the Dark Side

           

Let the record show that we are no great fan of that stretch of time between All Saints Day and the Vernal Equinox; roughly, from November 1st to March 30th.  The following parable is intended to illustrate this conviction:

          A team of psychologists conducted an experiment to determine what makes an eight year-old feel happy.  They placed the "control" subject in a room filled with all manner of toys; electronic gadgets, warm and fuzzy stuffed animals, and video games.  Meanwhile, the same team placed the "test" subject in a room; loaded knee high in horse manure.  An hour later, the scientists returned to observe the results of their experiment.

                       The subject in the room, filled with all conceivable manner of goodies, was totally bored and disengaged.  In fact, he pleaded to be released and returned to the waiting arms of his parents.  However, "Subject B", was dancing and cavorting about his test room in joyous celebration.
                    When the scientists inquired of the second boy what had made him so happy, he responded, "With all this horse poop, there has to be a pony in here,  somewhere!!" 
                     Put in the perspective of what this season of the year brings to our corner of the cosmos in terms of time and weather, we unhesitatingly identify with Subject B.
                     This is when northwesterners simulateously hunker down while searching...not necessarily frantically, but fervently, for something to raise our collective spirit.  First comes the triple whammy:  The day in which most of the country reverts to standard time, and surrenders an hour of light in an already diminishing day.  The second "hit"comes with grudging recognition that sunsets will now happen before dinner-time.  The third tale is told by the thermometer.  This is the time when the average daily temperature starts its annual migration "southward".          
            If the fruit and vegetable garden happens to be a

warm-weather pursuit, it's time to put away the trowels and hoes, and wrap pipes .The same process (call it "drudgery")  applies to potted flowering plants that please the eye, and attract our fine-feathered friends.  Think of this:  when was the last time you saw a bird smile at this time of year??  This is the season of living tough;  to sing a song of rain, snow, sleet, hail and "shiver me timbers".
                    On page 150 of the 1982 Anglican hymnal you will find a composition, penned by George Hunt Smyttan (1822-1870).  It's title: "Forty Days and Forty Nights".  The second stanza begins: "Should we not thy sorrow share, and from worldly joys abstain......."  This hymn, which is sung to the cadence of a funereal procession,  would be the perfect match for the outlook us light-deprived, house-hermits have, were it not for: A) the time at issue being of far greater duration, and B) it's place as a Lenten hymn; not typically sung during Advent, much less Pentecost.  However, it has been known to be hummed, when the weather outside is frightful, windows demand cleaning, or this hummer needs to feel penitential.
                     The staff of The View concedes that there are conditions and situations worse than daily life from mid-autumn to winter's end.  However, they make for a very short list, much quicker to dispatch.  A molar or wisdom tooth extraction; a flat tire, coupled with an empty gas tank; being cornered into conversation with someone you would just as soon avoid come to mind.

                     Now, if you'll please excuse this writer, he needs to prepare for sub-freezing temperatures which are just around the corner.  That means pipe-wrapping, generator prepping, anti-freeze equipping, and all manner of pluperfect pains in the patootie.  A pox on the house of the first person who says, "It's a winter wonderland!"

  

Meanwhile, the search  for that elusive pony continues.........