A long sleep

Unlike the grizzly bear, I do not hibernate through winter. Nope, unfortunately I'm wide awake through these long, cold months.

Much to my husband's regret.

Instead of sleep, my typical reaction to winter is to complain. Then I shovel. Then I turn on the gas logs. Then I complain. Then I find more sweaters to wear. Then I wrap up in blankets. Then I complain.

You get the cyclical drift. Winter is hard on me, and probably even harder on my husband living with me.

Years ago I remember reading long-time gardening columnist Jean Engstrom's take on winter activity. She said it was a great time to bundle up and look through seed catalogs while planning what you wanted to grow the following spring.

Not the gardener Jean ever was, I knew seed catalogs were not in my future, but that shouldn't stop me from doing some planning for this spring, summer and fall.

So, the last snow storm we had, I began dreaming and planning.

Not really knowing where to begin, I just let my eyes wander.

My gosh, how long has my carpet looked that bad? Is it just this room I'm sitting in, or does the entire house look like this? Prying myself from the chair into which I had planted, I began my house inspection.

“Well, we need new flooring throughout the house,” I came back and announced to my husband. He was watching football, but it was a big enough announcement to cause him to look in my general direction.

“The whole house? How about just buying a little rug for in front of the kitchen sink?” he suggested.

From there, the negotiations dissolved.

Eventually, we decided to consider new flooring in three rooms. In the spring.

I'm thinking bamboo, he's thinking area rugs. But we still have a few more winter months to negotiate.

A short time later, I really looked at the banister and railing as I climbed the stairs. You know what? They cried out to be stained.

It was now the third quarter of the game, and I think my husband was less than thrilled that I'd found a new task.

“They look fine. You're just trying to find jobs for me now,” he accused.

But I know that this summer, when I can open the windows and let some fresh air into the house, that railing is getting a new coat of stain. And maybe a light varnish. That part's still in the thinking stages.

Glancing outdoors, I noticed the pergola is really going to need stained again this summer. I'm scheduling that for June as the last time we did it in August and nearly melted before we got the last brush stroked.

“Did you see that chink in the brick on the porch?” I asked my husband. “I think we're going to need to get someone out here and look at that before it gets bad. Maybe in March we could call someone and get them out here for an estimate.”

The planning, by this point, was flowing.

“You know what we should do? That stone driveway should really be upgraded. Maybe we could pour concrete there. I know we can't do it now, but that could be done even into next fall, I'm sure,” I said.

No answer from my husband. He lay motionless on the couch — it was his only defense. I checked, and he was breathing so I knew he heard me.

I think he's opting to hibernate through the rest of this winter. It's better for our marriage when one of us takes the season off.