Winter arrived about a week ago, on the calendar at least. It rarely comes with a fanfare of snow or winds. Instead, in the Pacific Northwest, it creeps in quietly.

Fog rises slowly from the rivers, filling in the gaps between the hills, wending its way through fir and hemlock trees, caressing the occasional redwood as it rises. Mist turns to mizzle, and showers turn to rain. The sky is routinely blanketed in layers of sodden clouds waiting to be wrung out.

Large herds of deer or elk sometimes graze in the fields under the watchful gaze of a magnificent buck. Adolescent deer stalk country roads, debating whether to cross to their mamas or wait until the car passes.

Eagles soar above the rivers and lakes, fishing. Last week, I saw one bald eagle simply standing in a flooded field. I think he had his eye on something in the shallow water.

Daylight is short, though – little more than eight hours.

To see the sun this time of year, you need to be up at dawn. Here in the Pacific Northwest, that’s not hard. The first rays of the sun appear above the horizon at about 8 AM, although the sky will have begun lightening just before 7:30. For a few all-too-brief minutes, golden sunshine bathes the land in a beautiful light…before hiding behind the clouds for the remainder of the day.

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A new friend from the upper Midwest called this “the Great Dark,” even before winter truly arrived. During a party, another friend mentioned that a family member was moving to the Pacific Northwest from Arizona. Conversation stopped. Concern was etched on every face. “Has she lived here before? Does she know what it’s like?”

Winter darkness is a serious issue here, and the winter depression known as seasonal affective disorder is real. Some might say it’s rampant. My solution is to step outside often, and take short walks despite the rain and darkness. It helps. Truly. (Others use special, full-spectrum lights to mimic sunlight and boost serotonin levels. They’re a good option, too!)

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Yet, there is recompense to living in this gray, wintry world. When the cloud cover breaks, the nighttime skies are brilliant. Stars sparkle and shine without competition from nearby city lights. Owls hoot in the trees. Coyotes howl in the distance, their calls answered across the valley. (Of course, to experience that, you have to step outside and stay there for a while. Grab a coat.)

On nights like that, it’s easy to imagine the world primeval…the world our ancient ancestors knew…and to see our place in the universe.

Wherever you live, take time to enjoy the quietness of winter… the pause between seasons… and to recharge for what I hope will be a wonderful year ahead.

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