hibernating

The one good thing - the really basically only good thing - about the short days of winter is the moment, which happened to me today, when you look at the sky at 4:56 p.m. and it isn't quite completely dark. I almost cried with relief. Two weeks ago, it was dark at 4:30.

This evening I was sitting and enjoying my new favorite supper, the delicious combination of nutty toast and sharp cheese and golden tea, and I felt quite pleased with myself for discovering it and then I realized, oh. This is what the Dutch eat all the time. I am not the genius I thought I was. In fact, I am nothing but an imitator. But, genius or imitator, these three things together are delicious. I wonder if I am genetically predestined, from the evolution of generations of Dutch before me, to love the combination.

I still feel the urge to hibernate. I don't want to go anywhere after work but to my warm little room. I wonder how people lived this far north lived before electric lights. I wonder if they just nestled into shelter with fires and warm furs and didn't come out until spring. That's what I want to do. I want to stay warm and dry and all snuggled up.