The days are dreary.
The clouds are cackling.
The winds wrest every bit of my warmth.
Why do I brave these doldrums of winter?
The lights may be lower, but the spirits are higher.
And the ice, oh the ice. It is blissful yet bloodthirsty.
A treacherous freeze penetrates everything in its path;
sheets as sharp as razors, scourges for roads, runways, and riverbanks alike.
The stead will soon be saddled with snow.
So the best ice, it seems, is on the rocks.
I raise my glass to you, Jack Frost.
Mmm...the Toki is hitting tonight. This'll warm me up.
The true source of winter's boning is of my own making - inertia.
If idle hands are the devil's plaything, then this season, I have Satan on speed dial.
These bitter blusters, these caustic chills are much too inviting - to the couch.
Resist! Resist! Re...ah...fuggit, it's comfy in here, one more round/episode/snuggle.
I suffer the winter's cold winds, for they bear aloft next summer's seeds.
I'd much rather brave the storms of winter than the maelstroms of my mind.
Hats and gloves and scarves keep the frostbite at bay, but they alone can't keep me sane.
Alas. I must get outside and stand tall against the squall.
The cold snaps of winter are tough. Tougher than frozen snot on a walrus.
I face the hazardous howls of Mother Nature head on; her gusts are swift and mighty.
A frigid nightfall is friendly to no one, yet, deep in its throes,
I am happier than a husky with a snow cone.
A piercing cold may send shivers down my spine, but at the same time, it is a breath of life.
A most austere reminder that I still belong to this Earth, inhaling and exhaling her crispest offerings.
Things appear bleak on the outside, but inside, my soul radiates like the warmth of a yeti's embrace.
Winter.
Sobering to some.
Somber to most.
And an unstoppable, beastly force to all.
But doldrums, they are not.
- Espo
