I’ve never had the opportunity to explore whether I am prone to a seasonal affective disorder. With all this greenery around, I never feel the full brunt of winter. Sure, my back aches from shoveling snow and my fingers are swollen from chilblains. But my spirit is warmed by all the growing things performing around me. Forced bulbs are pushing their noses through the soil, vines are climbing around, grasses are bristling in little tufts only to be flattened and stomped into oblivion by kitten paws. It’s a happening place.