Winter is HERE!

How soon I forget

Lucious sun-soaked summer days

Winter’s first snowfall

Winter has snuck up on me so much faster than I had anticipated. I know not how this happens to me every single year. One would think that after many years of living in a climate where the seasons change drastically, I would anticipate the changes and prepare for them. But for some reason, I feel like I did when I lived in an earthquake prone area, I’ll deal with it when it hits. And then when the light fixtures start swinging, my mind is totally blown and oblivious to the fact that I live where earthquakes are a normal occurrence. Denial? Perhaps a wee bit, but this winter has caught me unaware!

Sometimes winter slowly makes its way in, creeping so slowly, like a sloth trying to cross the road. It’s those winters where I find myself impatiently waiting for the skies to just open up and pour down the fluffy white stuff, only to be met by a disappointing few flakes and freezing drizzle. The gray skies, brown earth would look so much better if only it were covered in white. It’s those winters when it doesn’t really matter that I’m not completely prepared for it. It’s so slow and whiny that I don’t really mind putting on the extra clothing without the comfort of snow on the ground.

But this winter is another story. Snow, ice, sub-zero temperatures and dangerously cold wind-chills have definitely yanked me to awareness of the fact that I am not prepared for this. I wear layer upon layer and still feel the need to put on another layer. Then Chacha and I trundle outside, she with her heavy coat and me with all of my many layers, fingers numb and burning while I wonder what mitten would actually keep my fingers warm. Ten minutes later, I am starting to sweat and those very cold fingers are now hot and covered in a sweaty slime which is soaking my mittens. This leads me to wonder, do I have enough pairs of mittens to dry this pair out and have another warm and dry pair ready to go for our next walk? By the time I get home, I have to strip and change because I’ve sweat through all of my layers. Gross, I know, but this is just me not being completely acclimated to the new climactic situation I find myself in.

Cleaning is a little easier in winter. I don’t have to worry about wiping Chacha’s feet because it’s just clean snow she’s been trotting through. There is nothing that old girl loves more than running through an open space of fresh snow. I love that about her. I watch her and beg the universe to let her stay with me, for another winter. The spectacular sunrises over the big lake, towering green pines covered in white frosting, the tiny footprints of little rodents and birds scurrying to and fro fill my senses and I am grateful for these changes.

I get why people complain about living in a northern climate, I do, I truly do. But for me, in spite of all of the fluctuations, I love the change of seasons. Each season is different and the same in its own way, and that’s what keeps me grounded and connected to the very short span of time that I get to inhabit this earth.