Bored, Bored, Bored

The dogs are bored. Lucy is bored. Ennui is a scratchy woolen blanket draped over all of us in the house, muffling the light, the sounds, activity. Lucy expresses her boredom by stalking through the house, meowing unceasingly in a tone akin to fingernails scratching down a chalkboard. Okay, I suppose that's not the tone, but it's certainly the effect. Lady hops up each time we approach the closet that holds the jackets and leashes, only to turn back when she realizes we aren't going anywhere, the disappointment written all over her drooping body. And Lucky is simply invisible, hibernating on his bed in the back bedroom like a bear denned up for winter.

The recent rain hasn't helped. Nor the fact that each day holds only about 5 hours of sunlight. All right, maybe not 5, that's Alaska; I tend to exaggerate when bored out of my mind. But, it's dark now, and it will be dark when I get home from work. I find this part of winter tedious. The novelty and beauty of early winter has worn off, and turned dull, flat. I'm tired of the activities that a couple of months ago brought cheer and contentment, making the big pot of chili, reading by the fire, getting cozy in a blanket.

But in just a few short weeks, we'll be headed toward March, and crocus will be popping up here and there to surprise us. I know where to look for that first one, too. It will be in the front yard of a house on the left side of the road as we start out on the neighborhood walk route we refer to as "the lower loop." Oh, I can't wait. I'm so grateful to live in a place with four distinct seasons. We'll make it. In the meantime, maybe one more pot of chili, and some TV to pass the time.