It’s gray and gloomy and mixed with humidity.
That unending nothingness mixed with the humidity that carries the cold right through your layers and down to the bone. It’s all about sleep, rest, and finding the joys where you can. A mental hibernation of sorts: to keep your reserves intact and to accept the natural flows of nature.
But it is a mental battle: the rational knowing that Spring will come, but the physical weighed down. When I can, while I can, I insert some color, my own little harpoon to keep the Winter sharks at bay.
Spring will come, in the meantime, I’ll Old Man and the Sea my way through, however I can.