The desolation and darkness of winter never fails to affect me. The absence of birds feels like more than just absence — it's as if winter killed them all. Wiped them out. Not a single peep comes from those bare, twisted branches.
Winter's darkness is a joy-killer. It goes for your heart. It is not oppressive. 'Oppressive' would be something. It is pure, unrelenting, merciless Nothing. Lack. Void.
To combat that, you've got to bring out the big guns.
Coffee here would likely power a battleship. Makes your British and American stuff taste like dishwater. The comfort and warmth it brings is a lifeline. A charm. Evokes Frodo clinging desperately to the Light Of Earendill in the spider Shelob's lair.
"May it be a light for you in dark places when all other lights go out".
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