In the height of winter my walks often take place on the one road into and out of our property because of the ease and the freedom of travel the road provides. I’m comfortable with winter but heading into February is right about when I begin to feel an eagerness for walks across the prairie, for softer earth and the tickle of grass, for the rough coolness of my favorite sitting stone, even a bug or two would be welcome.
I recently mentioned the unusually warm weather and I fear Mother N might have been listening. The current weather is of the kind expected for January, leading into February. this morning on the way out to feed the flock the air was full of haze, as though every creature simultaneously took a deep breath and slowly exhaled their warm air into the pane of winters cold. Suspended is a word that comes to mind. There was light from the sun but no shine. Blurry sun dogs were evident.
I wish I could say I have put the cold weather time to good use but I’m so unsettled at the moment and have no definitive excuse to give for the fragmentation. Each time I sit down, I’m up again, onto whatever task can be done sooner than the one I’m working on. It’s the fragmented feeling of a lot going on. The prairie is where I sit when I’m frazzled, but at the moment the landscape is a little bitter and even the walks are a little rushed, although no less invigorating given the brisk cold.
I too need to take that big inhale, let myself be suspended there a moment, and then find my pace again because the winter will not wait for me, it will shift again soon.
