Hey, my lovelies!
All year, I've extolled the virtues of nature. My blog and this newsletter have chronicled my newfound love of the outdoors. Kayaks. Camping. Appreciating our back yard.
As I write this, it is 0°F outside. If we're lucky, the forecast says it may warm up to 3 (not that it matters—the windchill is -17°).
The snow is pretty, but I have no interest to go out in this face-biting tundra. When I do have to walk the dog, I don two pairs of pants, ultra-warm boots, gloves, hat … the whole nine yards. By the end of our walk, even the doggie is slightly limping from the frozen ground. (I like to amuse myself by imagining the humiliated look he would give me if I got him a pair of dog booties).
Day like this, it's hard to find my purpose. Yesterday, I clocked very few steps from my bed to the couch. I stared at a writing project I've been putting off for too long; made barely an inch-worth of progress on that, then retired to the couch once more to read a few chapters of Lucy Foley's thrilling whodunit, The Guest List. That felt like an accomplishment, I guess. If I'm being completely honest, I had a mini-cry in the mid-afternoon. I felt better after that.
This is temporary. The temperature will not always be at subzero levels. If I can ride this out, grasp my hot cup of tea, focus on the prize, I can get through this.
All around me are reminders that life is moving forward. Two sweet little baby girls were born into my extended family this month, making me a great-aunt twice over. My phone is a wonderful source of texts and emails with photos of blissful slumbering babies wrapped in flannel. Here she is, nuzzled up next to Mama. Here she is, being gazed at wondrously by proud Daddy! What a cool time, to be able to see these darling little humans in their first days on this earth, even though they are so many miles away!
Songbirds flock appreciatively at my bird feeder, where I've hung up homemade suet cakes. They sing for me, and I know they'll sing even louder in the spring, when crocuses are popping up out of the ground and the thawed earth has that fresh, clean smell.
We can do this. I think we can. I think we can …
Photo by Renee Fisher on Unsplash