March 18th, 2023 – 7:40 am
Yesterday, it was a morning fresh with 42 degrees, sprinkles, and a big, bulky dark sky promising rain. Heavy drops with the power to melt the rest of the snow, clean us up and get the world greening. Today, it’s 19 degrees. The world’s gone frozen. Snow covers everything. Again.
This last push is the hardest.
Sunshine and hikes. The cottage and boat rides. Evening bonfires and stargazing. It’s there—I feel it. But there are these dismal days to slog through yet. Not that these moments are worthless. This is the time to take stock. What have we been doing? Where are we headed? What are we doing differently today that engages the parts and layers of us that a life of winters can make dormant? Or maybe that’s too much. Afterall, there’s daily life to live and those responsibilities end up taking us to wherever we are expected to be. Dropping kids at school. Sitting in a cubicle. To the store. Paying bills. Feeding and watering and clothing and heating and cleaning up mess after mess after mess. There’s value in all of this—the busyness, playing roles, earning and paying—but is the satisfaction in making ends meet, or is it in the overlap?
Prepare and plan or do nothing at all. Better weather is coming. Brighter days. We’ll be coming out of hibernation soon. Probably should put away the Oreos and Cheez-Its and buy more lettuce and tuna. We’re getting older and slower, but we don’t need to get fatter, do we? Daylight is friendlier lately. Hangs around longer. The couch still calls in the evenings, but the sun is coaxing us to the windows and doors more and more each day. Everything—overall—is warming up. We’ll get out there soon enough with our smiles and movement and good intentions. Yard work, house work, garage work, cottage work, camp work—good, different work that we don’t mind. Even the real work—the pesky day job—becomes easier to swallow.
Time keeps coming and going. Ticks away in silence. Measured by experience. There’s nothing to do to stop it. Our solace is in the cycles that bind us. We’re connected by the air we breathe, water we drink, and the earth we will become. This is not forgotten or wasted upon us. Not for those of that have grown up experiencing the ebb and flow and ups and downs of seasons. We’re waking with the day already on its way to wherever it’s going to take us. Drinking coffee. Eating breakfast. Listening as loved ones rise and stretch to join us. Into the sun and snow for now, but after that, who knows?