I am nearing fifty years old.
I don’t feel like a near-fifty-year-old.
But that’s not the point of this post, really.
I detest winter.
And I have spent the past forty something years dreading it. Complaining about it. Hating it.
You know how many total years of dread that is?
That’s more than twelve years.
Okay, up until I was sixteen years old I probably didn’t complain that much. I can subtract four years of winter dread off the total.
So I’ve spent at least eight years of my life being fucking miserable because of the weather.
That’s a lot of time being miserable.
And that’s the point of this post.
I’m pretty much at the halfway point. And I don’t want to waste upwards of twelve years of my remaining time on the planet complaining about the damn weather.
I’ve been doing a lot of reading on this subject, especially how Norwegians approach winter. Because they have some tough, long winters, and a couple months with hardly any daylight.
And I learned a Norwegian word.
It’s pronounced something like koosh-lee.
And I guess it’s tough to directly translate. But we Americans would define it as a feeling of coziness.
It’s wool socks and warm scarves and snuggly blankets and hot tea and fires in the fireplace and candles and hot chocolate and good music and good food and good company and contentment.
And I’m no expert on this, but that feeling or atmosphere of koselig is something Norwegians love about winter.
Winter for them isn’t something they suffer through and endure. It’s something they enjoy.
And that’s where I want to get.
Because like I said before, I don’t want to waste twelve of my remaining years complaining about the temperature outside.
So it really is just going to require a shift in mindset for me.
I’ve also been thinking about this now that it’s the holiday season.
I live in New England, one of the most picturesque areas of the country. It’s beautiful here.
And I live in a really awesome old house.
It’s falling apart in a lot of places, but it’s still a great house. It’s got tons of character and charm.
It’s a great house in the winter time.
I mean, there’s this:
There’s not a whole lot to complain about in these pictures.
In fact, when I think about winter, these pictures are what I think about. I actually have really fond memories of winter.
And I think my kids do, too.
What kid doesn’t love sledding? What kid doesn’t lose their sh*t when they see snow outside? How awesome is it that my kids will have childhood memories of snow storms and snow days and hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows?
And could Christmas really feel like Christmas somewhere tropical?
Not to me.
So I’m done complaining about winter.
I don’t have twelve more years to waste.
I’m done enduring winter.
Instead, I’m gonna start enjoying it.