“There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you…. In spring, summer and fall people sort of have an open season on each other; only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself.”
— Ruth Stout
The new year’s gotten off to a slow start, though not intentionally so. There were still deadlines to meet, projects that need attention, and a whole new season to plan for.
Instead, I gave into being sick, took copious naps, read a lot of novels, drank many cups of herbal tea, and generally retreated.
I like the new beginning that January represents. I also like what Simona says about not wanting to make resolutions, “…which feels like a burden we place on the new year before it is old enough to stand on its feet.”
So, we’ll let the year unfold, unburdened, and wait for it to reveal itself bit by bit.
This day, I learned how to make a snowman, or at least the start of one. It would seem an obvious thing, though not to me, having grown up in sunnier climes. I imagine this a skill passed on from sibling to sibling, parent to child. The snow’s receded since then, but the giant ball of snow remains. It now looks like an iceberg, sitting in the middle of our field, growing slightly smaller every day.