Yesterday I switched allegiances, in favor with the sun.
I have loved winter, loved being nestled into the deep Vermont woods. I’ve been a bit unwilling to dive outdoors, though the new smell of dirt is intoxicating and the color and quality of light so urgent. For some folks, this light is a long awaited beacon of all the pleasures dirty creatures of the sun enjoy – bbq’s, sunblock and sandals, gardening and mowing, spring cleaning and summer plans. I feel I’m now ready, nearly, to welcome all this – but first, I want to say goodbye to this fair winter.
Goodbye soft yellow light that crept through the windows at midday, slanting across my children and I and the pile of books we surrounded ourselves with as we cuddled up near the gentle fire, in regular intimacy, while the white untouched fields outside granted us such unhurried indoor pleasures. Goodbye to the deep satisfaction of a hot meal and steamy cups of mint tea with homemade bread and local honey dripping abundantly. Farewell to times suspension, those great allowances to wait with my son and my daughter for the school bus and watch the snowflakes fall softly and silently, onto twigs and branches, coated perfectly with layers of ice, reflecting a million different treetops. I shall miss most the cave-like instinct I fed upon luxuriously, the season of introspection as I puttered around the house, as I pulled the covers up over my head at night, and as I welcomed mybabes in the morning to my nest.
Now I shall have to contend with the riotous calls of birds. There is a pressure to be outdoors now, away from my den. To embrace the sensible grass, to embark upon ambitious behaviors that grant the sun full involvement as we commune with all that nature arrogantly boasts. This leaves my indoor chambers extraneous for a season but I shall return, browned with gladness, to occupy that cloistered space once again.