Half Slumber in High Winter

The dead of winter has taken hold in Anchorage.  The temperature has remained in the negatives digits for several weeks, and the landscape looks frozen and immobile.  The Bohemian Waxwings descended on our Mountain Ash trees a week ago, gorged themselves on the sour berries, then disappeared.  I have not seen them since, and have no idea to where they have fled to ride out the intemperate climate.

I get depressed during high winter.  Not depressed in "goodbye cruel world" sense where no amount of well wishes or good fortune can lift my sobbing spirits, but rather in the "everything is frozen, why must I keep moving forward" sense.  All I want is to curl up in my sheets protected from the cold to hibernate as do the bears, squirrels and other sensible animals living in the wilds of the far north.  Yes, my body wants to do as the wild things do and go into prolonged sleep until the angle of the sun portends warmer climes, and longer days. 

Though my body may wish to hibernate in the manner of my furry brethren, my mind is less eager to follow suit.  I try, but despite my best efforts to give in to the impulse of evolution and my body's internal, seasonal clock, I remain awake at night restless, feeling caged and discontent.  Our home has been, for the most part, remodeled.  All but one room are fully functional with floors, doors and fresh paint.  A hot tub awaits us in the evening on weekdays and anytime on weekends, and with no major renovations projects pressing for our attention, one has the time to be lazy.  I have not had the opportunity to do nothing for a very long time.  I should be ready at the end of the day to fling myself under the cozy warmth of the covers and blot out the world, but I cannot.  I fidget, and my thoughts, far from quieting, kick up like a glacial wind driving down a south facing slope.  

How odd to be suspended so securely between fully awake and partially asleep lacking the physical will to press forward, yet driven to continue planning, scheming, dreaming in preparation for the spring and summer.  Perhaps the bears in their dens feel the same as do I?