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Winter's grip.
14/12/21 20:55Some people use the term 'in the grip of winter' to describe freezing temperatures and weather worthy of the warnings and that makes sense. But to me the grip of winter is less dramatic or sudden, and more insidious, creeping into your daily experiences and sapping your energy. Perhaps it is the lack of vitamin D that makes this part of the year so tricky to navigate. In the East of England we get seven and a half hours of daylight at this time of year. It's dark when I get up, dark when I walk the dog, the sun is only rising as I drive to work and by the time I get home to walk the dog again the sun is already skimming the horizon - getting enough vitamin D is no easy feat with the way we live now. I have friends in Scandinavia who live in the dark with only a glow on the horizon at midday, so I know that my precious 7 hours are undreamed of riches to some.
Our dark walks are muddy, brown, tired green and cold at this time of year. I console myself with the thought that the earth is resting and how would we appreciate the beauty to come if we didn't have the grey days now, but sometimes it is hard to believe that there will ever be anything but mud and sickly greens. The autumn colours are gone, the berries have fed the birds. Once in a while we will wake to frost and for a few magical hours the glitter and texture of ice breaks the monotony of winter - the urge to take out my camera and capture some of that magic re-emerges but the sluggish sun eventually warms up enough to melt the frost and it leaves no trace of having been there at all.
Midwinter is almost here and our attention turns indoors. Early darkness is an excuse to draw the curtains, light candles, craft or keep up hobbies, read, eat warming, hearty foods. It is an excuse to put up a light against the gloom, to bring nature inside with a tree, holly, ivy, all the evergreens and berries you can find, a reason to invite friends to drink or eat with you, to play games, to catch up on tv shows you missed. If nature is taking a pause, then so am I. Like the earth, I abide, waiting for the sunlight to wake me from my rest and to keep me busy later into the evening. We too pause, reflect, share what we have and what we know, forgive and remember and wait for the sun.
Our dark walks are muddy, brown, tired green and cold at this time of year. I console myself with the thought that the earth is resting and how would we appreciate the beauty to come if we didn't have the grey days now, but sometimes it is hard to believe that there will ever be anything but mud and sickly greens. The autumn colours are gone, the berries have fed the birds. Once in a while we will wake to frost and for a few magical hours the glitter and texture of ice breaks the monotony of winter - the urge to take out my camera and capture some of that magic re-emerges but the sluggish sun eventually warms up enough to melt the frost and it leaves no trace of having been there at all.
Midwinter is almost here and our attention turns indoors. Early darkness is an excuse to draw the curtains, light candles, craft or keep up hobbies, read, eat warming, hearty foods. It is an excuse to put up a light against the gloom, to bring nature inside with a tree, holly, ivy, all the evergreens and berries you can find, a reason to invite friends to drink or eat with you, to play games, to catch up on tv shows you missed. If nature is taking a pause, then so am I. Like the earth, I abide, waiting for the sunlight to wake me from my rest and to keep me busy later into the evening. We too pause, reflect, share what we have and what we know, forgive and remember and wait for the sun.
