I am a winter person. Winter is the best time of year. If I am cold, I can put on more layers of clothing. I can bake and be happy for the heat that the oven generates. I can look out the window and see the woodpeckers and other winter birds at the suet feeder. I can sit here, writing, and not worry about the weeds that are not getting pulled in the garden. I can gaze out into my yard at the tracks in the snow, and wonder “who” has been visiting. Recently, we saw two deer in our yard. They liked eating the leaves of the Sweet Pea vines, and the dead fronds of the Goldenrod. The bears are sleeping, at least theoretically. One had to be shot last week in Portsmouth so I guess no one told him to hibernate.
In the winter, I can catch up on reading. I am a slow reader. I savor every word and linger over it. I am so proud of myself for having read a whole book in two sittings. Of course, the book was only 60 pages. Does that count?
Most of all, the winter affords time to sit and hand quilt. As soon as I gather my threads and betweens, I am all set up to begin quilting anew on a quilt that I started so long ago, I can’t remember when it was. It’s a colorful quilt and having it sit in the corner of my living room, in a rocking chair, just waiting to be finished, makes me smile.
Yes, you can have your sunning and your surfing. You can enjoy your boardwalks and ocean breezes. I am content to be with my books, my computer, my quilts, and of course, my husband who is “a good kid.” He cooks for me. He is a “keeper.”
Of course, I can proclaim the joys of winter, but when spring arrives, I will be happy to again see the Daffodils. When the leaves begin to turn in autumn, I will welcome that season, too, as I watch the squirrels scampering about to gather and hide their acorns and other nuts. And so, the seasons roll around. At least in New England, we have pronounced seasons, and Vermont even has an extra season = “mud season.” Ain’t they lucky? For now, I will enjoy the peacefulness of the shut windows, blocking out the dust and noise of traffic past my door. I will look out upon the whiteness of the scenery and enjoy the symbolism of its purity. Every season has its joys and its blessings. Life is good.
Patricia Cummings
