Winter

Well this picture might just sum up my preparedness for things like freezing temperatures, even though I was born into it and have spent seasons of my life in it. This was a hummingbird feeder and I didn’t get to it before the freezing temps did. Nor did I get my spring bulbs planted on time–however we had a bit of a thaw in December and I ran about the yard madly hacking at the soil and dividing many bulbs among few holes. It should be an interesting spring show!

I suppose I’d rather be posting a picture of me on the beach in Mexico from an early December trip, but I should really let the full weight of this time of year press on me to see what pops out. A snowman perhaps?

When I was a kid, winters were long and lush, tons of snow and everything we did was about the ice and snow. Skating everywhere, from the back yard to the school yard and indoor arenas where candy bars and hot chocolate fueled us. Skiing on the weekend–Saturdays getting to the slopes by badly heated school bus, and Sundays with Dad in the station wagon farther into the hills where the slopes were higher and longer, with Bach and Burt Bacharach (our only two tapes) serenading us on the 8-track player.

Friends, colleagues and clients seem to be taking off every other week now, a constant overlapping of trips. A stream of “views from my room”  and “views of my pedicure at sunset.” But I can bear it. Surely I can. If I tune into the hibernatorial nature of the season, I can forgive myself for feeling sloth like, having my face droop to the floor by sunset, and staring wistfully at every warm passing plane heading south.

I heard the phrase “this is the new normal” this week, sadly in regards to climate change. But I have to tell myself that this, frisbee in the yard with my best friend, mice running across the snow, bunnies by the bushel, and the wail of coyotes at 3am is not to be taken lightly. Yesterday we walked into the distant fields, the falling snow creating and acoustic quilt. You stop and stand and there is nothing but your breath, and if you stop breathing…it is indeed a divine place.