We take an early morning walk through our neighborhood in the freezing cold. Sunrise over the harbor makes the frigid air almost bearable. Bundling up helps, too. Todd had on so many layers he looked like this:
But he didn't get frostbite, and neither of us got beat up by bullies or got our tongues stuck on any flagpoles, so it was a good walk. Heading down Wharf Street, I saw these paper whites in the window of Street & Co. At first all I could think about was the fact that my own paper whites have all passed by, and I added "buy more bulbs" to my mental list of things to do, already slipping into my "get things done" mode. Then I stopped myself for a moment. The bulbs were lovely in the thin early morning light, thriving in their clay pot, with just a pane of glass to protect them from the cold.
And that got me to thinking about winter--how I like it less and less with each passing year, and yet its extremes are beautiful. Everything lives on the edge in winter. So much is at stake for animals and people, birds and plants. Tonight there's a storm coming in, so tomorrow the city will lie muffled and bundled under the snow. Everything will slow down. We don't get those pauses the rest of the year, so maybe there's something to be said for the chill.
By the way, thank you for all the lovely comments on the writing inspiration post! If you haven't seen it yet, you can find it here. Hope to see you on Friday for the first exercise!