January Slog

Forecasters predict the cold is coming back this week.

Our January Spring will end.

The cold threatens, weighs down ominously on my shoulders.

Machinery breaks in the cold.

Water lines freeze.

Cold allows no solid plans, no nonrefundable tickets.

Yet the land needs cold to survive.

Cold kills diseases, ticks and fleas. Maybe even grasshopper eggs.

The cold proves Nature dominates.

It forces us to admit our fragility.

That humility is good, even though it is hard on our egos.

Our only hope is to remove ourselves from the cold, go inside.

Inside brings the January Slog, that depressing effort to just put one heavy foot in front of the other.

The necessity of facing the January Slog makes cold even more daunting.

Several years ago, our entire winter was one dense, cold, foggy day.

We didn’t see the sun for 70 days.

I counted.

Frost built up on the power lines over weeks and became so heavy that the lines broke.

The moist chill demanded wool, the only fabric that could keep a person warm.

Still warmth was elusive.

Depression weighed down on me even heavier than the fog.

I slogged through that foggy winter, somehow pushing forward against the weight of the fog, but I’m still not sure how I survived.

Since then, facing the January Slog intimidates me.

In fact, I call it the January Slog even though I know it extends through March.

I just don’t want to face it that long.

I use other tricks to successfully climb out of the January Slog, too.

Some work, some don’t.

Eating more desserts doesn’t seem to help me come up for air, although I keep testing that experiment.

After all, results may vary.

I have been trying new-to-me activities.

I enjoyed skate-skiing the other day. I’ll admit that it was a lot more fun when I traded classic cross-country skis for Nordic skis so I could actually glide for a few feet.

The next day was a new experience, too.

I discovered muscles in my feet that I had never thought about before.

Another trick is to spend time with people I like.

I invited friends to come for dinner.

Pre-Covid, I regularly subjected victims to my cooking, but the pandemic broke that habit. I missed seeing my friends and it finally occurred to me that I could invite them to my torture kitchen again.

They quickly accepted the challenge.

And even survived.

I’ve been forcing myself to read nonfiction books that extend my knowledge about land management.

While the land is sleeping, I’m using the time to develop strategies to heal the ranch after two years without rain.

The most effective strategy to help myself climb out of the January Slog is to go outside, even in the cold.

I hiked in the mountains, crossing slippery slopes and walking on thin ice.

All the while, I breathed in the piney, fresh air and the benevolent power of Nature.

I hunker down indoors with business and land management planning, but the cows still need to be fed, the shop still needs to be organized and the sheep still need to be brought in every evening.

After being denied sunshine during that foggy winter, I make sure to soak up some sun.

I worry about people who work in offices or live in assisted living facilities.

They never get to feel the sun and cold during our short days.

I worry about kids at school, too, who never go outside.

Being outside won’t cure the January Slog for everyone, but I bet it helps.

The cold sun outside keeps us humble, grateful and maybe even pest-free.