It’s the Sunday before Thanksgiving and I’ve mostly been on the couch today.  Fireplace on, candles lit, cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies on the TV, and nursing a cold.  All while trying to keep the SAD away.  Seasonal Affective Disorder is a real thing in Western Washington.  Short days filled with chilly air and almost endless rain can wear on anyone.  The climate of things is depressing for sure.

Lucky for me, I won’t be camped inside all winter this year.  My back deck was given a hat at the end of the summer.  My good friend and her husband spent long hours helping me design and build a deck cover.  It’s finished and perfect and will provide a harbor in the many tempests to come.  

I feel like an outdoor space is a must for mental health.  I am feeling very fortunate to be able to step out my back door into my little sanctuary.  And so I do just that.  Being able to do this in any weather now is quite a luxury! 

My little wooden bistro table sits beneath the new cover atop a bright blue rug.  I hung an outdoor chandelier from the new rafters above.  I wrap myself in a blanket and take a seat at the table.  I strike a match to ignite a tea light candle.  I place it inside a cast iron owl.  It illuminates the owl’s belly.  It reminds me of someone special to me who has since passed.  

I listen to the rain beat different rhythms above my head.  It reminds me of the construction weekends spent listening to the Highway Men and other country legends.  And laughs.  I take deep breaths of fresh air.  Sometimes it will smell a little like the sea or, thankfully fewer times, a lot like cows.  Tonight it smells a bit salty and slightly of chimney smoke.

I feel safe underneath the drumming rain.  It’s too late in the day now for the  hum and chirps of the birds.  I would have liked for them to round out the band, but I can’t control everything.  I’ve bested Mother Nature for now anyway.  When she decides to throw wind and tree branches at me again, I’ll need to stay inside once again.

The sun is gone now. I think of the darkness beyond the lights brightening my deck.  It is dark and cold now and it is still not solstice yet.  More darkness is to come and for quite some time ahead still.  And then I remember the poet Dylan Thomas.  And I think, “Do not go gentle into that good Night.”  And to also “Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”  For in the words of the ever-so-wise Albus Dumbledore, “Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

I can outlast the sun now while being sheltered from the rain. So until the long days of sun return, I’ll keep the sanctuary lights on, bundle up, and continue to make my outdoor space a harbor in the tempest.