It’s approaching January and in western Pennsylvania, from where I write, the bleakness of winter is present.
Whether or not this time of year is indeed "bleak" depends on perspective, of course. Some people love this time of year. I have a friend, he looks a bit like Yukon Cornelius from Rudolph, and he and his family love winter. They embrace all the opportunities winter has to offer — hiking, skiing, snowball fights, even a midwinter jump into a pond where they have to break the ice before they plunge.
I would love to have their enthusiasm, but I don’t. Gray days, slush, and piles of dirty snow in parking lots with an inventive youth, most likely, parking a shopping cart at the very top of the pile, does not fully warm my heart. Like the song, I find this time of year a bit bleak, foreboding, and even barren.
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