I love this time of year, the calendar is used up and shabby, the pages dog eared and scribbled upon.
The Holidays are almost done, just the last hoopla of New Years to see and then it's time to curl up and winter in, wrapped in fuzzy blankets, steaming tea at hand, slumbering critters, frost tapping on the windows.
The trees are stark and their bark is gratefully dark from our steady rains, leaves mashed in heaps at their feet, colors have fled, they rest.
Barely concealed are the promises of spring, the dogwood blossoms are tiny green pods, sheltering the abundant promise to come.
Here, in this relatively temperate climate the camellias are splashing their delicate colors on the hedges and the rhododendrons are busy building their lavish displays. It seems so strange to see these signs and to know that they will be safe even through a snow or two, bitter cold not usually present here.
And yet, I shiver in my ski jacket, scarf wrapped around my neck, gloves tucked into my purse and pockets, cold feet well socked and slippered. The insanely heavy sheepskin will come out soon, to wrap me in it's blissful softness and memories.
I've been locked in high gear for weeks and weeks, driving myself to do more, make more, be more. All with relative success, even burdened with a shading of grief at the loss of my companion, tears coursing down my face at strange times, yearning.
I continue to create, to laugh with joyful abandon at the antics of my furry friends. I finish it all and drive 3000 miles in 13 days to the smiles and hugs and heartfelt bliss of my family.
The miles of road, the endless mountains, the sky, all remind me how fragile we are, how little it matters, that only today, only the light in their eyes and the warmth of loving really matters. It's enough. I am enough.
The road to home, sheltering me now, here I expand my light to fill the dark corners, peaceful and safe, loving it all.
Peace to you and yours this winter's night.
