Here we are in our January funk.

Duck and deer-hunting seasons are over, neither the Tigers nor the Saints made the playoffs, basketball tournaments are still to come.

Mardi Gras season is here, but crawfish are in short supply, and small, and the krewes’ parades and balls are just beginning. It’s still a ways to Fat Tuesday.

Compounding our misery this month has been a stretch of cold, wet, gray days, making Sun Belt an inappropriate designation.

But Wednesday afternoon the sun broke through for a while and one could see the bounce returning to people’s steps as they skirted around puddles going here and there.

The sun, at last!

It boosts spirits and assures us that, despite the misery of Siberian-sent cold coming with its snow and ice next week, Spring, with its lawn mowers, fishing poles, tennis racquets, golf clubs, pickle ball paddles and baseball, isn’t that far away.

Speaking of sunshine and baseball brings to mind umpire Doug Harvey’s recounting of a time he and a manager argued over a ball hit down the right field line.

Harvey from behind home plate called the ball along the outfield line foul.

The manager questioned why Harvey made the call instead of his umpiring partner. Harvey said he did so because he had the best sight angle.

The manager then asked Harvey if he could see that clearly a ball hitting the ground 250 feet away.

Harvey told him, to paraphrase it, that on a clear day he could see the sun, and it’s 93 million miles away.

The manager returned to the bench, as I now shall return to mine, with a new ooph in my step.