There’s a running joke in Chicagoland that there are two seasons: winter and construction. I’m sure it’s noted in other areas too. And for me, there are truly two seasons; but neither has to do with ice and snow or bulldozers.
I call my two seasons “Indoors” and “Outdoors” and created this dichotomy a few years ago to combat the cabin fever I felt in winter when the days are short and bleak.
Indoors is the season where I’m more housebound, when the days are short, and the skies are interminably grey. I used to mentally whine about this, but now I embrace it. After all, the grey disappears once nightfall occurs. And because it occurs early, I use the evening time to read, reflect, and reminisce. I probably play piano more too. And do crafts.
Outdoors is the season where it’s easy to jump in the car without having to bundle up. Outdoors is about gardening and swimming and working out more passionately because it’s easier to do. It’s also about visiting farmers’ markets and cooking really fresh food and lounging on our patio as the sun bids adieu.
There is no magic date on which either of these seasons begins or ends. It’s not about turning back the clock or acknowledging a particular solstice. Instead, it’s about looking forward to doing cherished things all times of the year.
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