Unwelcome.

Go away!

No, I don't want you to go away, but I fear that my door may be saying that.

The Christmas stuff is mostly gone, all of it from the outside, and the whole neighborhood looks pretty blank. No snow, not yet; unusually warm this past weekend, but we're gonna get the white stuff next week.

It's the front door that's the blankest; Meredith Wilson may have been right when he wrote "The prettiest sight to see / is the holly that will be / on your own front door." Now I got nuthin'.

Normally this is not the case. In February there's a heart for St. Valentine's Day; March gets a big shamrock; April, a bunny and chick thing; October, a ghost and pumpkin thing; November, a grateful scarecrow; and December, a wreath. From May to September there's a floral hanging that says Welcome. All of them say welcome, either explicitly or by implying that we are fun, holiday-observing people who want to share the celebratory mood. Which is good, because our mat says nothing -- it only has muddy foot- and pawprints.

But what of January? It seems to defy front-door décor. You can't leave Christmas stuff up, and that would include anything snow-themed; like it or not, decorations involving snow mean Christmas. By now people are done celebrating the new year and don't want to hear about it anymore. Martin Luther King Jr. Day defies any kind of commemorative door thingie; basically you can only get away with that (like for Washington's Birthday) if the person depicted could also be seen on TV ads for local car dealerships.

"I have a dream... of outstanding deals!"

No.

So what does that leave? Other things in the north that we note in January could be depicted by a shovel, a broken arm, or a box of tissues. Not seeing it.

Probably the only thing to do would be to get a bland no-frills sign that says Welcome, or a nondenominational, non-holiday wreath, like this one:

It's nice. I just feel like that's trying to hard. Like it's saying, Yes, the big holidays are over, but look! Life is still festive! But it isn't.

Maybe I should just pin a drawing of an afghan and a pair of thick slipper socks on the door. Not only is it winter-themed, it also explains why I'm not going to answer the bell. Sorry; too cozy in here. See you in April.