Battling the Blues

Did pioneer women get the blues?

I was musing about this the other day as I sipped my tea, read a book, and tried to dispel the ennui that's settled in over the past few weeks. 

Rather than dwell on my own emotional state, I began to think about those intrepid women who crossed the country in search of a better life. Huddled around a fire with their family in a drafty cabin. She had to feed everybody, be they human or livestock, tend to sick children, stitch up holey clothes, and no doubt put her own needs in last place.

Because that's been the role of women through the ages. Not that I'd want to be the one who had to grab a gun and start shooting stuff for dinner, although I'm sure plenty of women took on that task, too.

So, did pioneer women suffer from seasonal depression? Or did they find beauty in snowscapes and telling tales around a blazing fireplace? Did they look to the heavens with gratitude when the food was plentiful and everyone was healthy? 

All of this makes me realize how paltry my complaints are. Maybe I should just be thankful that at this moment, life is good. I'm in a warm house. I don't have to go anywhere today. I have plenty of food, water, toilet paper, and chocolate.

I just looked out the window and saw a little sparrow, who's probably freezing his tail feathers off. He looked me in the eye as if to say, "You think you've got it bad, sister?" Then he flew at the window and away.

Now seems like a good time to make some hot tea, grab a few animal crackers, and curl up on the couch.

And maybe count my blessings while I'm at it.

Photo attribution: Internet Archive Book Images, No restrictions, via Wikimedia Commons