For somebody who hates the cold of winter so much, I sure picked a hell of a state to live in. But today, I learn, is the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year. After this, the tide begins to turn on what I dislike most about winter: the shorter days, the longer nights, sundown before five o’clock. I seem to tire more easily in December, feel like I get less done, have fewer hours with which to work. I’ve never suffered from severe depression, so I hesitate to call this anything as troubling as seasonal affective disorder. But I am happy to learn that we’ll be getting more sunlight after today. Even though the skies still threaten snow, and Christmas is a just four short days from now, spring seems somehow closer at hand.