In a slump

It happens every year, sometime in November.  A fog descends on my soul and I feel my way through it for several weeks.  
I hate that this happens to me, because at my age there aren't that many more days allotted to me; it's a shame to spend any of them in a fog.  
I'm sure I've suffered from S.A.D. all my life, although as a small child the prospect of Christmas gifts, candy, fruitcake, Christmas lights and assorted nuts kept it at bay.  After all, it was all about me and what I was going to receive.   
Later on, Christmas revived my spirits because we had two children who brightened up the season.  Then it came to the point where Christmas actually added to the depression because we were spending money we didn't have to buy things for people that they didn't need or even want.  We checked out of that, and now we've given up gift-giving altogether.   
I know there are special lights for people with seasonal depression to sit under, and that those are supposed to help; but because this is such a temporary thing, I muddle through.  I make a point of getting outside every day.  Sunshine does wonders.  The hot tub helps, too.   I normally don't try to call attention to my plight, and I don't talk much about it, even to Cliff, because it really does no good.  I know it will pass.  I'm not clinically depressed or suicidal.  
Farmville (on Facebook) diverts my attention.  I became bored with it last June and totally gave it up, but I'm once again a master farmer.  Right now I've started a co-op where people join me in raising rice and cranberries for sweet sake in my winery, and we're racing the clock going for the gold; I'm also seeking vehicle parts for a wonderful machine that will allow me to harvest my crops, plow the soil, and plant new crops in one click.  
I know.  I should get a life.  And I will, in a couple of months:  I'll be looking through seed catalogues and planning the garden; I'll be out with my camera, checking all the trees for buds.    
I'm taking this time to let my readers know that if my entries seem uninspired there is a reason.  I don't intend to mention S.A.D. here again, at least not until next year.   
My mood will start improving on New Year's Day: I love beginnings.     

Cabin Fever

Normally, there's very little that prevents me and Cliff from taking our daily walk, rain being the main hindrance. We've gotten out there in single-digit temperatures, and as long as our hands, heads, and necks are well-swaddled, we're fine.

Yesterday, though, with the wind blowing and temperatures in the low teens, we skipped it. Today if the wind isn't present, we'll probably walk, even though it's only three degrees. Forcing myself to get out there and "just do it" seems to help my mood. I'm one of those people who tends to be somewhat depressed in winter, especially when it's bitter cold. I'm a prime example of someone with Seasonal Affective Disorder.

Something about cold weather makes me want to cook things that really aren't so good for us, and then I eat too much of what I cook and get depressed with myself. Of course when my husband, who has heart issues, eats along with me because after all, it's what I cooked, I feel guilty.

So yes, I'm a mess. Somebody know a good shrink?

Meanwhile, my dog doesn't understand why we don't go for our walk on days like yesterday; she follows me and Cliff around, whining under her breath. If one of us gets out of our chair to go to the bathroom, she's right at our heels in hopes we're getting ready to walk.

I turn her out by herself more than I used to, so she gets some exericise: she's gotten well enough acquainted with all the neighbor dogs that they bore her, which means she isn't so likely to follow them off. She's learned to bark at the door when she wants in, which is pretty cool; she barks twice in succession and waits for me to let her in; if I take too long, she goes to the other door.

She seldom stays out more than an hour, and seems to stay close to home.
Our neighbor across the fence shoots a deer or two every year, and he dresses it himself. He leaves the skin, feet, and other useless parts in his yard to rot. Sadie has discovered these delights from time to time; I think my daughter's dog, Hawkeye, has been a bad influence: he's always on the lookout for goodies when he visits. I'm sure Sadie would never think of playing with carrion otherwise.

Now I really can't complain, because my dog shouldn't be on the neighbor's property; if they want to live with rotten deer parts in their yard, it's their business.

Yesterday evening I called Sadie home and she came prancing, proudly bearing the lower part of a deer leg with the hoof intact. She was in heaven, I tell you. I told her to drop it, and got her in the house. Then I put on my coat and went out to retrieve the nasty prize. Trouble is, it was so cold I didn't want to walk all the way to the disposal place, so I put it just inside our garage and closed the door. It's freezing in there, and I figured I'd feel more inclined to get rid of it with the dawn of a new day.

Yeah, right. I'll get to it before the next big thaw.

November

No sun--no moon!
No morn--no noon!
No dawn--no dusk--no proper time of day--
No sky--no earthly view--
No distance looking blue--
No road--no street--no "t'other side this way"--
No end to any Row--
No indications where the Crescents go--
No top to any steeple--
No recognitions of familiar people--
No courtesies for showing 'em--
No knowing 'em!
No traveling at all--no locomotion--
No inkling of the way--no notion--
"No go" by land or ocean--
No mail--no post--
No news from any foreign coast--
No Park, no Ring, no afternoon gentility--
No company--no nobility--
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member--
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds--
November!

-- Thomas Hood

I first read this poem in "The Book Of Knowledge" as a child.  Not a single
November passes that I don't think of it.

It describes our Missouri weather these recent days to a "t".

Do you suppose Thomas Hood had Seasonal Affective Disorder?