It's flat around here, in more ways than one. Prairie winter. Flat light. White as far as the eye can see. I guess that's why the cardinals at our feeder are so exciting. This bright flash of red. I feel that flatness creeping inside, and I start a new craft, go to a rocking Zumba class, contemplate airline tickets, try my best to keep on the sunny side.
Our brightness arrived today in a box from our Boston brothers, also in the know about this thing called winter. Such gorgeous roses, I could smell summer when I opened the box. Isaiah and I engaged in a heated debate over lemon bars versus apple crisp for our afternoon activity...he won, of course, which isn't so bad since I already have some leftover crisp topping in the freezer. Those lemon bars will have to wait. (Not too long!) These plates call for a tea party.
I was happy to come across this quote today in wish jar. A gentle reminder. Especially since I found myself happily trying on spring skirts when I was at Goodwill yesterday.
See, I don't yet realize that March will be the hardest month. Early February's the coldest, and often the snowiest, but March, strange, silent March, will be the hardest.
The danger in yielding to thoughts of spring--green grass, hikes, bare feet, lakes, fly-fishing, rivers, and sun, hot sun--is that once these thoughts enter your mind, you cant get them out.
Love the winter. Don't betray it. Be loyal.
When the spring gets here, love it too--and then the summer.
But be loyal to the winter, all the way through--all the way, and with sincerity--or you'll find yourself high and dry, longing for a spring that's a long way off, and winter will have abandoned you, and in her place you'll have cabin fever, the worst.
The colder it gets, the more you've got to love it."
~Rick Bass fr. Winter -Notes from Montana