Winter has a way of wrapping around me that feels like it’s here to stay. So I stay: all snuggled up inside a warm house; all snuggled up inside layers and layers of warm clothes; all snuggled up inside myself. It’s winter. Endless.
And then the snow starts to melt. Streams start to flow again. Light returns. Instead of 6 layers, I need maybe only 3. I can trudge on trails that were inpenetrable.
Wait. Is winter leaving? It’s not here forever?
I’m in disbelief. Every time. I’m such a sucker for winter’s lie.
I’ll be transitioning little by little back to spend time at my home in NH. To what is now still a frozen white mass that calls itself a lake. See how long it takes for me to believe I can swim in it again.
Meantime, part of my deep love and appreciation for winter is that it provides the ideal conditions for my art. It makes leaving the home/studio unappealing. It cuts out the capacity for my loving friends and family to easily entice me away. And it shortens the time outside needed to wear out the pup.
Winter: it’s quiet. Introspective. And, in what it means for my art … endless.