Its winter here. The snow says so. The leaves have left the trees, letting the birds show their nests and warbling posts. It is winter, as the streams gurgle, letting ice stay over and under and around the flow. The water doesn’t melt the ice, but gives strength and length to it, and it stays even when the sun is at its highest in the sky.
I woke up knowing that I couldn’t possibly go outside today. It was gray and overcast and no birds were singing. That was proof enough, right? But today was New Year’s Day. My New Year’s Day, anyway. The 15th of February signifies that the year can get nothing but closer to warmth and gardening and smiles. So I donned my alternate pair of tennies (the main ones are lost somewhere under my daughter’s bed. I don’t know why, but I’m not going under there.) I rummaged around and found a soft, clingy pair of yoga pants (I know no one else will be seeing me walking on a cold winter day), and decided to walk.
You should know this about me. I despise being cold. My nose is cold even when I’m in the house and I end up holding the warm power supply of my laptop to it when I watch movies. I wear socks to go get warmer socks that have percolated on top of the dryer, just for such occasions. I sit in my hot tub in the middle of summer, for heaven’s sake.
Having said this, I went out for a walk. I’ll tell you this: There is a lot of goose poop out in Colorado. It’s like all the people go inside for warmth and the geese say, “Finally! I can drop a load. Come on, Bob. Pete. Jainy. It’s safe. Just don’t do it in their yards because THAT would be over the line.”
So I started walking and I realized that I don’t have to be in a sunny place to have a beautiful experience. I walk in suburbia, and I see the large trees that have shed their leaves and leave no place for the squirrels to disappear. No place for them to secretly eat their nuts and berries and bits of trash that Old Mr. Paul left out.
I start to meander with my head down, in a slight, yet cold, breeze. I usually would see nothing in my mind until I would hit the edge of the neighborhood. I would see nothing because I would assume there was nothing worth seeing, out here in the cold, sun-less day.
What struck me this time was the lumps and piles of snow. I said it before and I’ll say it again…I see it as OOBLECK, the imaginary type of thing falling from the sky in Dr. Seuss‘s land of Bartholomew Cubbins. http://www.google.com/Wikipedia/BarthalomewCubbins
This stuff is ooey and gooey. It lands in puffs or shards or streaks. It sticks and piles up in corners of patios and hangs around on tree branches. It hides bushes and small bumps and trash and paths to mailboxes. It is something to be played in and thrown and dug up and shaped and smiled at. And. And, it does get old. Unless I am looking for the good in it, like today. Today it sparkled and smiled back at me. I saw birds frolicking around it, and squirrels chattering on top of it, and dogs prancing through it.
All of that distracted my cold nose and hands as I moved through the neighborhood and out into the open space. All of it let me love winter today and let it be another place that I can live. I do not need to wait it out in the living room, or bedroom, all huddled up and waiting for the sun to come out. I can love it like it is, being a part of the beauty that is …Winter.