Henrietta Hay's Column

By the time this appears in print the temperature may well be 70 degrees. Or, on the other hand, we may have two feet of snow on the ground. But as I sit facing the unblinking eye of my word processor the sky is gray. It has been gray for days and days and days, with only an occasional break. February is not the favorite month of the year for most people.

Whether this phenomenon is caused by the weather or by some ancient mystical curse, my friends are rapidly succumbing to what they like to call the "February Blahs." Some of them have given up and latched onto the "bug that is going around" so they will have an excuse to stay home and be gloomy. Others are able to be gloomy and healthy at the same time. One, who is normally quite even tempered and warm and kind to all, snapped at everybody in sight the other day.

One friend reports that she has read more mysteries in the past month than she normally reads in a year. It keeps her from thinking about the weather. Another goes skiing twice a week. That is too often for her bad knee, but the sun shines at Powderhorn and keeps her sane.

And then of course we have the people who run away from it. My friend the philosopher headed for Aspen to watch the Winterskol Parade. She reports that watching a bunch of golden retrievers chasing buckets of fluorescent green tennis balls in the middle of Main Street is much better than retreating to bed with a mystery and a bowl of popcorn. One friend took an ocean cruise during February. She reports a good time, but came home with a February cold. A couple of my neighbors are on an around-the-world cruise, and are planning to skip February altogether.

I escaped the February blahs completely this year. I had my Houston jaunt in February, and saw lots of the Texas version of sunshine, although I nearly froze in the light coat, which my kid assured me, would be all I would need. Listening to his kid sing in the opera brought enough sunshine for February and the rest of the year. But even Houstonians suffer from the ravages of winter. Beside each door as you enter the auditorium of the Opera House; there is a large dispenser of individually wrapped cough drops with a very dignified sign inviting all who enter to help themselves. According to the program, "In an effort to help reduce distracting noises and enhance the opera-going experience, the Warner-Lambert Company is providing complimentary cough suppressant tablets to patrons of the Houston Grand Opera performances." One of my friends thinks it would be a wonderful project for the local symphony and theater to promote.

February is an annual reminder that we can control a lot of things, but we can't control the weather. This year Mother Nature hurled even more indignities on us -- huge amounts of snow in the high country.

I remember all too well winter trips between here and Denver when the whole road was two lanes wide and there was no Eisenhower Tunnel. The scenery was always great on the top of Loveland Pass - if you could see it. Then we built a beautiful new highway with all the modern technological advances. Newcomers to our area often think that a four-lane highway in Colorado is just like one anywhere else, and a lot of locals tend to share that view. So imagine their surprise when an avalanche closed Vail Pass for more than 12 hours-- just like the old days. Fortunately no one was injured this time, but a lot of people may have wished they had stayed home and suffered the February blahs in comfort.

We haven't learned to control the gloom that comes when the sun stays hidden. This is the banana belt and the sun is supposed to shine. When it doesn't we blame it on everything from El Niño to the fallout from Mt. Pinatubo.

The February blahs are like a cold in the head, and the two often come hand in hand. There is no medication to cure them and you just have to wear them out. Oh well, spring is coming. Isn't it? Take two aspirin and go to bed.