January is a rough month in any calendar year, but this year it just seems to be a really tough month to get through. With the new year beginning and the holiday season behind us, one would think January would be exuberant rather than exhausting.

Even as I cooked the traditional Southern dish of black-eyed peas and ham hocks.

For good luck on New Year’s Eve, I could sense January was going to be exasperating. It turned out to be that way: cold with some snow and icy winds making it downright miserable. I’m blaming the weather for everything this January.

I’ve noticed that the elderly especially have a difficult time in the winter months. It seems the older one gets, the more the cold rattles the bones. Since older folks can’t get out as often in the winter months, they aren’t as mobile.

This makes the days seem short and the nights ever so long and sleepless for them. Those who have had joint replacements have become great weather prognosticators. We know exactly when that next cold front will hit the Front Range.

As I sit before my crackling fire, I can hear the winds blowing, and the thermometer on the deck sits near the zero mark. I really think it is frozen there and won’t move until spring arrives.

However cold, grey and dreary January becomes, I still somehow view it as my window on spring. You see, my seed catalogs have begun to arrive. Hope abounds for a yard full of spring flowers.

The Mr. used to shake his head and tell me there was no room for any more flowers, shrubs or trees, etc. But I would just shake my head and say where there is hope, there is a way for one more hole to be dug for one more spring flower. I admit it looks pretty bleak. All I can see is white stuff.

There’s not much green grass anywhere to be seen. No January crocus peeking up. Nothing but frozen tundra everywhere I look. We have various species of birds feeding at our deck. I let the flower boxes go to seed and the birds have enjoyed pecking at them this winter.

Last week, we had a red-tailed hawk perch himself on our railing. Then, he flew off to one of our mountain ash trees. By the time I reached my phone, he had flown away. He was back again the other day sitting in one of our maple trees. I had never seen one up so close before.

As I flip through the catalog, I recall scenes of grandeur and picture my garden in full bloom. Maybe if I dig something up over here and plant it over there I would have more room everywhere. Of course, I’ll need a new shovel since I broke the tip off the one used last year. I hear another winter storm is approaching with more snow and bone chilling temperatures. Aren’t there any signs of spring in the Rockies?

I might as well accept the fact that it’s still January in the Rockies, and Ol’ Man Winter is still stomping around in in the mountains.

I think that for now I’ll just put my seed catalogs aside, snuggle down by fire and take a long winter’s nap.

Email Betty Heath at begeheath690@aol.com.