Re-adjusting to the seasons

Winter lies too long in country towns;

bangs on until it is stale and shabby, old and sullen.

Willa Silbert Cather

1873 – 1947

The consistently warm weather in Brazil spoiled me. It took about a week before I expected nothing else. Even the rain was warm, and wind was a rarity.

During some parts of the year the nights can be uncomfortably warm.

I had an air conditioner, but only used it once, preferring the heat to the noise. A fan was necessary to keep the mosquitoes away, but other than that, the living was easy.

Our Montana winters demand a total change of lifestyle from the summer months. It takes at least thirty minutes to get dressed, and then a person leaves the house so bound up in heavy clothes, even getting into a pickup is physically demanding. In Brazil I was always surprised to find myself dressed so quickly. A tee shirt, a pair of bermuda shorts, and my flip flops were sufficient for any day of the year. In less time than it took me to get my winter boots on in Montana, I was dressed and out the door in Brazil.

Our winters, with their -40 degree winds, demand preparedness before the fact, and I think the knowledge that one has to be ready for the worst sublimates into a more disciplined work ethic during all seasons.

When I helped with small projects around the restaurant in Coxipó do Ouroit it was often a battle for me not to insist upon doing things the way I thought correct. It didn't take long for me to learn that it didn't matter. If something broke, there was plenty of time to fix it because there was no winter on the horizon to provide the time urgency that we're accustomed to dealing with. If you know that the weather is going to be agreeable for the next few months or so, why hurry?

Winter brings the world to a halt. Nothing grows from October until the end of April, so we have to get a year's work done in six months. The threat of cold and snow gives us an ethic and personal discipline that people in the tropics don't have or need.

I think this winter is going to be a tough one for me. It will be the first time I don't have work to do, and I'm not a person that enjoys winter activities. I've spent too many years in the northeast winds, trying to get the cows fed to think that it's entertaining to slog around in the snow, looking at nothing but a barren earth.

I have a book outlined, so I suppose I'll work to get it written. If I can propigate the intensity with which I once worked, I can have it ready for the editor by spring. My legs and lungs are too weak for me to even think about honest work.

When I was imprisoned in that crazy hospital in Cuiabá, Mato Grosso, my dream of heaven was being able to sit on someone's porch steps and smoke a solitary cigarette in the sun. I must have prayed to the right saints, because that was exactly what I did when I got to Montana. Life was wonderful.

But all good things must end, I guess. It's getting cold already, so life on the porch steps isn't pleasurable for more than a couple minutes these days. Life is tough.

My major sacrifice to the gods of winter will be giving up my flip flops. They're all I've worn during the last two years, and with the weakened condition of my legs, I'm going to need some practice wearing shoes with heels

So we'll see how it goes. I have it so good that I have to search around to find anything negative in my life, but I always manage quite well. It takes a lifetime of training, for sure.