About this time of year in New England, people start getting a bit cranky about the weather. The curtain of white that was full of magic and wonder just two months ago is now a burden. The shoveling is agonizing; the icy roads treacherous. Many start to anticipate the coming Spring with a hunger that leaves no room for the wisdom of
I see it differently. To me, this is a time of inward reflection and quiet inspiration. These last several weeks are my chance to finish projects and creative endeavors before the desire to join the summer rituals begin.
There is such beauty in the quiet, crisp moments of this perfect seasonal "in-between." I can feel the sleeping life starting to stir under its cold blanket, enjoying its final rest and gathering the energy it needs to burst into being once more to repeat the cycle of life and awakening. The birds are starting to return. The little sassy woodpecker is hanging from the suet feeder, the twittering of chickadees is echoing in the trees, even the geese have trumpeted with their recent arrival.
Be patient, Earth-creatures. Not much longer now...