Hello, sunshine!
When winter starts to get you down ...
In January, I walk outside every day, but come February I want to be out more. I long to sit on the porch and read or sip my coffee. I long to just be outside more.
I’m always amazed that I can be this time of year. When the sun is shining and the wind isn’t blowing, it’s possible, even enjoyable — even when the thermometer hasn’t climbed to unseasonable heights.
I learned a new word this year (actually an old word, obsolete word, but new to me) — apricity.
I love having a word for this warmth that is so apparent to me when I sit on my sheltered porch on a February afternoon, when I unzip my coat just a little on a walk, or stop to stand the light on my face full of heat and hope.
This morning dawned gray and dim, snow dusting the car and the walk way, but as I sat in the car, sipping coffee and peeling bits off a cardamom bun, the sky cleared to blue, the sun began to beam on me. I turned off the car, and with it the heat, but I felt the sun doing its job.
Later, maybe, I’ll sit on the porch in a slash of sunshine. I’ll wear a fleece, but not a bulky coat. I’ll cup my hands around a mug of coffee or tea or cocoa. I’ll read or write a letter or just tilt my head back to soak up the light.
The fire inside is cozy, but I craze the fresh air and brightness. I’ll take it while I can, because when the sun shifts around the corner, with it goes the warmth, swiftly and suddenly, like a switch turning it off. Time to go in, until the next sunny day.
February is a short month, but by this point winter begins to feel long.
I find myself watching the rhododendron leaves curl and uncurl, noticing the buds swelling and waiting.
I find myself looking for the tiny green points of snowdrops by the back door, the earliest signs of spring, coming as they do in the still winter.
My neighbor texted me the other day to show me that her snowdrops were starting to bloom. I loved seeing the flowering. I also loved that she knew how much seeing them would delight me.
I walk by my slumbering garden and dream about about will bloom again. I dream about what I will plant, the possibility of seeds, and where I will put the tomatoes this year. I peek at the rhubarb to see if it might be waking up. It’s not time, but I hope and watch and wait.
I noticed the other day that my daffodils are starting to poke their green tips above ground, even as the snow dusts down again. I’m starting to plan my spring flower show visits, one of the things that carries me through the last long slog of winter and mud season.
What gets you through these late winter days? What signs are you seeing of brighter days ahead?
Some winter reading for this late part of the season:
Connect to the cold. Soak up the sun. Delight in the now. Anticipate all that is to bloom and come.