In the poem “To a Mouse” by Robert Burns (1785), we find the origins of the expression “best-laid plans of mice and men.” The human apology to a fellow mortal who just happens to be a mouse is heartwarming, something we don’t see much in the modern world anymore, but it is nonetheless touching. I mentioned it here at the beginning of this journal entry to explain my absence and the disruption to what had just settled in quite nicely as my “protocol” for how I intended this series to unfold: Covid-19 decided to make me change my plans.
Initially intended for publication last Sunday (Jan. 12, 2025), it would have consisted of entries covering the period between January 5th and January 11th, 2025, but those so-called”best-laid plans” were thrown out the window on the 9th. Now, if you’ve never had this gift that keeps on giving called COVID-19, consider yourself fortunate, but if you have visited the COVID-19 circles of hell or had them visited upon you, you can appreciate just how little anything matters but surviving and that there was no way I wasn’t going to get kicked out of everything I had planned. It would be easy enough to moan, groan, whine, and complain, but it would also be redundant; if you’ve had it, there’s nothing new I can tell you that you don’t already know, and if you haven’t… You just wouldn’t understand. I could bitch about having now had it twice even though I live a solitary reclusive life, but it’s just not a good look for me, and I choose to just dust my ass off and get back on the horse, clean up after myself, and ride on. What follows is an abridged version of the Hibernal Journal, Weeks 3 & 4 (Jan. 5 thru 18.
Sunrise on the 5th was 7:12 a.m. and has not changed for 2 weeks. Sunset, however, changed from 4:26 on the 5th to 4:40 p.m. on the 18th, adding 14 precious minutes of sunlight to each day.
Week 3:
Sunday was the warmest day of the week, with temperatures reaching the low 20s. As the week progressed, Winter dug in her heels, gifting us with high winds that made it feel near 0°. The full range of “crazy cold,” “stupid cold,” and “AYFKM? cold” (my personal fave) was thrown at us, and reasonable people would have just stayed indoors and waited out the winter until spring. Me and the girls are not reasonable people. We went outdoors for the same amount of time as we always do, split between the two of them wrestling on their hindquarters like wild bears in the wilderness and the three of us hanging out on the porch basking in the winter sun. It’s worth noting that Newfoundlands have double coats, whereas humans do not, and if it weren’t for double Arctic long johns under quilted long johns, this endeavor would have been relegated to watching winter through a window. As much as I might complain about them, I have to give props to A-zon for keeping me alive and protecting my digits from frostbite so I could even attempt this hibernal journal endeavor.
Observations of the week:
If we are honest with ourselves, the courting phase of any budding love affair, winter in this case, is but an anesthetic to dull the pain that follows your commitment to the effort to make it work. While it is true that she can be harsh, bitter cold, and unforgiving, it is impossible to escape loving the depth and breadth of the range of colors on Winter’s Palette, for these things are truly breathtaking. Winter weather in the Northeast, while challenging to appreciate at times, offers the single greatest opportunity to discover the depths of your tenacity; life is not meant to be easy, and if we never challenge ourselves to go beyond our presumed limits, we can never look over our shoulders to appreciate all the challenges we overcame.
Week 4:
As it was in the bad old days of the pandemic era, I was relegated to “shelter in place” status, which, for me, was just another day in my life as a Hermit. Between the shivers and the sweats, the complete lack of appetite, or even the slightest hint of Senses of taste or smell, Alice and I were effectively bedridden from the previous Thursday all the way up until Saturday morning (January 18th). Emma was kept home, primarily to prevent her humans from Catching my plague, and Alice and I went outside three or four times per day so she could attend to her business and I could breathe in fresh air rather than the sickness air that always pervades the smell of your home when you’re locked inside behind closed windows and doors breathing recirculated death air. Independent of my recovery status on any given day, disregarding my complete lack of energy, strength, or stamina, I dragged the two of us down to the porch for sunset every afternoon/ evening. Staying committed to the plan of being up close and personal with winter on her terms, I made myself appreciate the beauty and wonder of sunsetting Skies and Moon Rising Stars, and while it might not have cured my illness, it surely lightened my spirits. The featured image I have selected for this entry was one such inspirational moment during week 4; the first New Moon Rising in the winter sky just happened to be positioned directly above a chimney across the street from my house, and its curious position at the top of a chimney was too good to pass up.
Observations of the week:
A Fresh coat of white paint was applied to my neighborhood at the close of calendar week number three. Week number four will likewise bring a newer, forecasted to be much thicker, coat of the fluffy stuff and will mark the return of my temporarily interrupted protocol for these journal entries. I’m fondly reminded of the expression “never disappoints” as it relates to Winter because she truly never does; Winter does what she always does, year in and year out ad infinitum, and the only way we can be disappointed by her is rooted in the idea that we could have ever expected anything different from her then she has been giving us for millions of years.
