On the Upside...

There is an upside to when the days become short and the skies turn dark. Like the small animals that live in a tree or cavern in the ground, we also are driven to nest.

This innate desire to hunker down is not familiar to those that live in the warmer climates. And, for the most part, many of us (if given our druthers), would rather flee the area instead of experiencing the conditions that stir this particular survival instinct. But I’ve already discussed the downside to this time of year, and knowing me, I will discuss it repeatedly over the course of the next few months. Today however, I’ll write about the lighter side of living buried under the heavy snow.

As our attention is drawn inward, we begin to organize our hovels in a way that creates coziness and warmth. Afghans are tossed into the corners of sofas; slippers are pulled from the closets and placed near the beds. Woolen socks are unearthed from the drawers and inspected for wear ability. Gloves left divorced from their mates during the busy hot days of summer are now, once again, reunited with their partners. And for many, summer clothes are folded and placed into tubs, and moved into storage. Spices, when used during the warmer months had previously struck our senses as having been out of place, now suddenly become welcomed and longed for. Furnaces are turned on, our homes become bone dry. No longer are we bothered by bugs, except for the spiders that grow in size and number. 

Wood is gathered and stacked, and turned into hot flames of radiant heat; energy that warms our homes and fills the air with the familiar scent of winter. A scent not inherent to winter in its natural form, but familiar to us as it signals people are near. For those that have a fireplace, eyes are often spent watching the flickering flames of orange, red and yellow. A form of mediation, whether they realize it or not.

Stepping from our homes, the cool air wraps itself around us in a startling embrace. Our faces tighten while we inhale the invigoratingly cold air into our bodies. Errant leaves smack against our bodies. The darkness spurs a peculiar vulnerability from within as we try to acquaint ourselves with surroundings that only weeks before had been well lit by the slowly moving sun. Hats and scarves are unearthed and placed snugly against our faces, in doing so bringing with them a smell found only on these particular knitted objects. The smell of drippy noses, dried snow and sweaty heads. Smells that remind us of our intent last spring to wash these items before putting them away for summer.

As our world slowly loses its natural array of color, and then swiftly turns dark and white, we enjoy the flickering flame of candles placed strategically around our living rooms. We burrow deeper into the corners of our favorite chairs. We let our eyes drift onto the pages of a good book. And instead of meals cooked quickly during months when we are eager to remain continually moving, we savor the smells of ingredients simmered for hours. Like our thoughts, these foods are given extra time to sit and mingle.

With far less to distract us, our thoughts are drawn inward, like vegetables left to simmer in a slow cooker, we also want to take the time to soak in the warmth of our homes and the warmth of good conversation. We excitedly curl into our beds earlier than what is necessary, solely to enjoy the feeling of our toes warmed under weighty blankets.  Books left unopened during the busy months of summer are now cracked open and savored for hours prior to sleep.

The next few months are not my favorite time of the year, and yet they provide a certain necessary balance. To appreciate a good meal to its fullest one first needs to feel hunger. To appreciate the long hot days of summer to their fullest - one first needs to feel the short cold days of winter.

Sane