On the grassy, beachy head
On the cliff where you’ve been lead
The curve of the hill is green and soft
As if the wind would hold you aloft
→ From Nada Surf’s “The Fox,” off their 2007 album Lucky
Winter has no fan in me. I appreciate it on occasion, like the first few light snowfalls, or watching big flakes fall at nighttime, illuminated by the glow of village street lights (snow adds instant romanticism to outdoor movie scenes — movie scenes that never seem to happen in real life, am I right? I’m looking at you, Groundhog Day), but the whole of the experience adds so much grief to my life. Or that’s what I’ve led myself to believe, anyway. It’s the fact that going outdoors even for a few minutes is such a chore; the monotony of sweatshirt-hat-scarf-jacket-boots-gloves wears on me enough by itself, and then I have to shovel 10 inches of snow just to get down some icy stairs to my vehicle, which also needs to be cleared off and sufficiently warmed before driving to work. Oh yeah, and the sun decides to hibernate for four months, too. Good lord.
Fortunately, I have a few songs I listen to when winter’s frosty grasp begins to get to me, which coincidentally happens right around this time of year. “The Fox” is one such track, and really for no other reason than the lyric I’ve excerpted above. It’s comforting to picture a curvy hill of soft, green grass in my mind when I haven’t seen one in months. As a sucker for good album names and art, I rank Lucky as one of my favorites. The album art depicts what can only be a summertime night sky. After today, one of those endless winter days, now that’s what I’m talking about.