Greetings from the unmapped land of Winter Holidays. You may be here too, somewhere, lost among the to-do lists, shopping lists, half-completed presents and wreath wire. (Pardon me if I trip over you.) Such chaos– with baking traditions to uphold, projects to finish, dust bunnies to cage.
Will the woman find the self-discipline to do these things during this time of semi-unemployment, or will she look around and maybe say to the dog, “Seize the day!”
Still, there might be an hour of writing letters, an hour of baking — a glass of beer and supper, a knitting project begun, then maybe a present wrapped and a room dusted.
Or the dusting skipped for a sit by the woodstove with a book. But life is so full of every sort of distraction–the fire needs wood, the bills need money, the laundry accumulates like snow…
Then there arrives a morning when the national news is so horrific as to leave me breathless and in tears, staring and prayerful, and the holiday wreaths darken into funeral wreaths, and I am just so deeply sorry… Such incomprehensible loss. It has washed over us all now like the wave of an immense and deadly storm, bleak and cold and numbing.
Finally today the hole in my heart has begun to be a little more quiet. I continue on my various paths, including writing here.
I find I’m loving the cold rain of winter and the big old dusty house and the little basil plant that feeds my salads from its place by the kitchen window. I enjoy that I am fit enough to carry firewood and capable enough to make gifts for the people I love and I see that my life is hugely rich in every single important way.
Here are some chilly bright white Hellebore blooms, just for you, looking like they look right this minute in my rainy garden.
I also send you my wishes for love and for winter good times–and for deep healing too, and great good luck in the new year.