Melancholy
I hate winter! And if one more person tries to explain to me how the seasons work and how winter is needed in order for nature to regenerate and renew herself, I am going to pull down my pants and moon them. And believe me, THAT is not going to be a pretty sight.
You see, they are all missing the point. My “hate” is not meant to be rational or to make sense to them and has nothing to do with how things are meant to work here on Mother Earth. It has nothing to do with the seasons and the cycle of life. I am fully aware of that cruel twist in the planet’s axial rotation as it makes it's elipsical journey around the sun. A cruel twist that causes the sun to head north towards the middle of each year. So please, leave me be and spare me your scholarly explanations.
Even the birds had the good sense to bugger off and leave. I hate winter because I hate the cold… period. I hate being sick and the misery that comes with it. Sniffling and sneezing… what kind of a life is that? I hate the misty mornings and the lack of warmth. I hate that I cannot go outdoors and soak up the sun. I hate not being able to do the fun outdoorsy things I like doing, like swimming and cycling and sport. Where are the picnics, holidays, outdoor parties and the Saturday afternoon braais? (braai = BBQ, for non-South Africans). I hate the absence of colour, the yellow grass and the dry barren soil and the complete lack of moisture in the air (I live in a summer rainfall region). The leaves had the good sense to commit suicide en masse… does it get any clearer than that?
I hate the absence of naked skin, of beautiful girls in skimpy outfits… everywhere you go. I long to see children of all ages running around… barefoot, laughing and screaming at the top of their lungs. I hate how pale I have become and that I cannot wear T’s, shorts and flip-flops. I hate that it gets dark at around 5/6 PM in the evening. I hate that I have to use a heater to keep warm and that my bed is cold at night time. I hate getting up in the morning when it is still dark and having to go to work. I hate the sight of my garden as it is ravaged by cold and frost. I hate...
Oh, where are the halcyon days of summer?
I think I am genetically programmed to worship summer and all that comes with it. Hahaha… I was born in September and it does not take a genius to realise that Mom and Dad had to have had at least one passionate night in the summer of 1974. Yeah, I even had my humble beginnings on a summers night… or day. Uh... ok… let’s not dwell on that part… information overload and images that can leave permanent scars.
Summer is the stuff dreams are made of. Presents and parties… sunshine and surf… beaches and beers... boys and girls. Romance and love and new beginnings. Sigh!
Three more months to go and the sun will come a-visiting again. Until then… just leave me to wallow in misery... bbbrrrrr.
