WordSisters

Category: winter

  • Tending the Garden

    On walks through the Arizona neighborhood where we are staying, many yards have been let go because of the severe ongoing drought. Prickly pear cacti that often look plump and rosy are shriveled and wrinkly. Shrubs and trees are brown and brittle—not dormant, but dead. Here and there, homeowners have planted clumps of yellow and orange flowers. In the struggling landscape these small patches are obviously tended and watered. I understand the wish to cultivate one small burst of joyous color.

    My husband and I are grateful for our escape from Minnesota’s frigid cold (-11 degrees air temps the morning we left). While here, I could easily drift into wondering about our sons, their wives, and our granddaughters (everyone’s OK, but thinking about them is a hard habit to shake). Dismay and foreboding about our democracy remain a dark undertow. 

    However, my husband and I are mindful we are lucky to be getting away, so we tamp down those concerns and tend to our joy. Notice the sun on our shoulders, blue sky and high wispy clouds. Hazy mountains in the distance. Soft 75 degree breezes. The pleasure of patio dining and hearing birdsong again.  

    We take the break. Turn toward happiness. Are almost carefree.

  • Wet Feet and Warm Heart

    To people living in the lake-effect snow areas, Tuesday night’s seven and three-quarters inches of white stuff that landed in Door County is insignificant. Except the weather professionals predicted a dusting. Opening the door at six in the morning to send an old, thirteen-inch-tall dog with arthritis in his hind quarters required intervention by an owner still in cotton knit pajamas and slippers.

    The flip side of this story is that one of the most intensely awesome sunrises distracted attention from noting the snow depth. Bare tree branches etched black lines against nature’s red, orange, yellow, saffron into beauty that could not be painted, photographed, described. Walking along the back windows of the house behind the small dog, my eyes never slipped below the horizon. 

    Sunrise colors seem shorter as the solstice approaches. By the time boots were located and a snow-covered dog rescued, the sky had turned a warm pink then faded into regular daylight. Winter weather arrived surprising me with the gifts of sunrise, snow in the trees, wet pants and bare feet discovering small cold puddles where the furry one shook.

    In a time of deep emotions ranging from the continued happy surprises of family to dread of the immediate political future, from satisfaction in completing a complex writing project to sadness about a relative’s illness, it is easy to not notice what is simple and beautiful. Life’s gifts and losses cannot be tabulated. A stranger’s smile might change an icky morning into a better day. 

    May your holidays bring calm, happiness, and the beauty of a winter’s day even when your feet are cold or wet.

  • Season of Change

    Since ancient times, people have observed days growing shorter and dreaded winter’s coming darkness, which culminates at winter solstice. These days, many of us barely notice this natural shift, but instinctively we light candles, fill our homes with tiny twinkling lights, and gaze at crackling fires—all in an effort to push back the darkness. Beyond being the shortest day of the year, winter solstice can be thought of as a time of change, when one era or year draws to a close and a new one dawns.

    Some personal events parallel this natural cycle of transformation. My family is expanding—a welcome change—and our tradition of hosting several days of long elaborate holiday meals will evolve. Next year, there will be a little person in a highchair who won’t be able to sit still and wait while we linger over a second glass of wine. We’ll let go of our current traditions and invent new ones that are more kid-focused. That’s as it should be.

    I’m also aware of another coming transformation. One of the writers’ groups I’ve been part of for 15+ years will change when a core member moves to Michigan. Because we write memoir and personal essays, we have shared our secrets and personal truths—first in stories with the group, later in writing launched into the big world. Consequently, we have developed an extra measure of trust and acceptance other friendships might not achieve. We support each other when our lives are troubled and when our writing stalls. We celebrate our personal triumphs and our publishing successes. The idea for the WordSisters blog came from this group—you’ve read our writing over the years. 

    Of course, we’ll continue to meet via Zoom. We’ll still share our stories and writing, provide encouragement, and offer personal and writerly advice. We’ve pledged to stay part of each other’s lives, but we all understand our current way of meeting is ending. 

    I’m at the cusp where I can see the past and the future—acknowledge what’s changing and welcome what’s coming next. My family and my writers’ group will move into a new era. In the natural world, the days will begin to grow longer and brighter minute by minute, and spring will arrive as it always does.