This month, I’ve chosen not to write about the common topic of Christmas, giving, and holiday celebration. It’s not that I’m a Scrooge about such things. I’ve always looked forward to every kind of yearly benchmark and holiday observation. But this year, I’ve managed to get the jump on shopping for gifts, mailing packages, and decorating. Mentally, I’m past Christmas already. Now, I am focused on enjoying blissful winter stillness.
Winter in Illinois has come in with a bang. It’s only mid-December, and we’ve already had several snowstorms and days with single-digit temperatures. Given this pattern, it makes me wonder what the next three months hold. It could be a very long and rough winter. But I’m okay with it. Now is the season for being curled up on the couch, reading, watching movies, doing crosswords, and listening to music. Now is when I like to sit at my kitchen table, engrossed in watercolor painting or some type of craft project. Now, is when all I want to eat is homemade vegetable soup and fresh sourdough bread. And now is when I quietly huddle with old photo albums, letting my mind slip back into past times with loved ones I miss dearly.
Being shut in, surrounded by frozen stillness, is a blessing. Enveloped in memories, words on paper and in song, and soothed by small sensory pleasures – the steam from my coffee, the fuzzy plush of thick socks, the scent of fragrant pine, I am soothed and restored.
There is scant time for such indulgences once spring returns. With warmth and longer sunlight comes chores. All the raking and mowing and planting. Home renovations, travel, busyness here and there. This is the only time I have to savor fleeting moments of my grandchildren wrapped up in their poofy coats, waddling like little penguins on the crunchy snow. Wide-eyed, rosy-cheeked, puzzled, and in awe of the white world that has descended upon them. This is the winter stillness when my dear husband makes countless treks to fill the bird feeders, then returns to his window and binoculars to watch the feathery dramas that unfold. Small, quiet, precious moments that wrap around my heart.
Four years ago, I lost my mother just three days after Christmas. In the days before she passed, before she slipped into a speechless, dreamy state, she mumbled to me, “I have loved so many.” I will never forget that moment. She was pulling away from this world, reviewing the memories of every face and endearing moment that had touched her life. Wrapped in love for eternity.
Yes, now is the time to embrace the stillness. Gifted with another year, I reflect, bask, and am grateful.
This month, under Recommended Reads, I am featuring the book Winter Sleep: A Hibernation Story by Sean Taylor and Alex Moss, illustrated by Cinyee Chiu— a lovely bedtime story about how the natural world rests in winter.
Little Seeds Read 