A midnight dreary?

With words like that describing a winter’s night, no wonder most of us aren’t thrilled to be entering the depth of winter.

And make no doubt about it.

Dec. 21 was the longest night of the year. After that, everything is uphill. That means the days will already be getting longer.

Although too often we view it going downhill as we start to slip into the frigid days of January. They have ended their downward slide that started six months ago when the temperatures were flirting with the century mark and we’d gladly welcome a respite from the heat in some variation of the weather we are enjoying today on Dec. 21, 2023.

Yet, we will let our perspective be poisoned by seeing the coming days as gloom.

We do so because we’ve been conditioned to view winter as the least rewarding of the seasons.

But this is when it all starts all over again. It is when heavenly moisture freezes into snow that provides the gift of life in spring runoff.

There would be no spring or summer — and certainly no fall — without winter.

Most trees have slipped into rebirth mode.

The final batch of leaves are ready to fall or are already at the mercy of wind, rake, and leaf blower alike. They will leave behind bare branches that will soak in the chill and moisture of winter days and nights.

Nature is setting the stage for a reawakening as delicate buds crack through woody encasements.

And there is perhaps no place on earth that rebirth can dazzle you as much as here in the Valley flanked by the coastal mountains to the west and the Sierra to the east.

The forces of nature have created a concoction of soil types kissed by a Mediterranean climate that can nurture an amazing spectrum of flora and fauna.

The days, as we near the end of the calendar, are anything but dead.

The rebirth that we believe is an exclusive spring thing has already started.

There are patches of deep, bright green wild grasses popping up in the Diablo Range.

They are ahead of what hopefully will be a winter where snow dusts the Altamont in white.

The evergreens in the upper reaches of the Sierra, but below the tree line take on an intense, often glossy green. The smell of pine needles is sweet and unaffected by dust, heat, and the need for water.

You also can see bright green specks appear on otherwise drab ground here in the Valley whether it is along country roads or in your yard.

Yes, the seemingly endless palettes of green are mostly precursors to what we will curse as weeds when the end of refrigerator weather arrives as the last misty patch of tule fog has dissipated for another year.

The kiss of life that moisture in the air gives vegetation is under appreciated. It is what cleans the air. Airborne water molecules gently erase the foulness. It isn’t on the scale of a brisk winter day after a steady rain or cloudburst. But it does the same in a much gentler manner.

We spend much of the winter wishing it would end instead of appreciating it for what it offers.

Those overcast gray days help lay the  groundwork that assures our senses are at the sharpest when the monotony is broken by a crisp, cold, bright, sunny winter’s day.

Be honest. A clear winter day is more welcome than the 45th consecutive day of summer sunshine. If for no other reason, that the winter sun — despite a chill — warms body and soul.

The sun’s rays overpower the sense of dread that comes with overcast winter days.

There are those who believe there are not four seasons in California, especially in the Great Central Valley. They are sadly mistaken. There are distinct nuances that come with winter, spring, summer, and fall. But you can’t see or experience them if you spend the days going from climate controlled abodes to climate controlled vehicles to climate controlled workplaces.

If winter is so horrible here, then why do tens of millions flock here each year and stay from December to February to escape winter hell?

The namesakes of the snowbird moniker we hook on New Yorkers who head for Florida or the Midwesterners that set out for Arizona this time of year know a good thing.

Granted, as the winter unfolds it can be maddening for commuters who head over the Altamont or those that venture to Sonora find themselves basking in brisk sunny days before making a return to the Valley socked in with fog and low cloud cover.

But it’s that fog that makes spring in the Valley so intense from the intoxicating elixir of almond blossoms to the decadent smell of moisture on young leaflets of alfalfa.

Yes, it is cold — by Valley standards. But rare are the days when it drops below freezing or fails to make it to the mid-50s.

Nature isn’t brutal in the Central Valley in winter. It’s simply chilling.

And if we take what is unfolding before us in the context of those not fortune enough to live in the five or so regions of the earth where Mediterranean style climates can be found, winter is anything but long and dreary.

This column is the opinion of Dennis Wyatt, and does not necessarily represent the opinions of The Courier or 209 Multimedia.