Here is the view from chez nous ce matin. The first real, stick-to-the-ground-and-stay snowfall of the winter. And in case you are wondering, I do not speak French (if you speak French I’m sure you could tell). But it’s one of the things I’ll be working on during this quiet season. It’s a season I used to dread, but I find myself actually looking forward to it these days.
Winter in the mountains has been an adjustment for us. It is the blue and gray season, a time of year with minimal sunlight and maximum cold. The first year we lived here, the mercury hit twenty below zero and stayed there for a few days. Dear Reader, I will confess that I freaked out a little bit. But I have since learned that those temperatures, once expected and even routine in these parts, have become rare. Good news for me, not such great news for the planet or our future.
But even if the planet is warming, life at thirteen hundred feet is still quite different from living in the Hudson River Valley or even the Catskills foothills. The growing season is ridiculously short. The summers are more comfortable. And the winters are longer and colder.
But if you are lucky enough to live in a beautiful spot and have a reasonably functional heating system, this is a very special time of year. It’s an opportunity to slow down, concentrate a little, and focus on the small things. The Scandinavian concept of “hygge” has it exactly - extra blankets, a warm fire, a cup of hot cocoa, a good book.
This year, I’ve got a few projects I intend to address. There’s a novel to finish (nearly there!) and another to begin. An opportunity to seriously improve my French. A vintage spinning wheel and table loom will be put to use. There’s a medicinal herb garden to plan and prepare for. Perhaps a little sewing (or perhaps not).
I’ve stocked up on candles and LED holiday lights, which absolutely improve the atmosphere when the sun sets at 4 PM. I know folks who have started new art projects or even learned new skills and businesses. That’s probably not me. I am not, nor have I ever been, someone who can focus my attention on one thing and become expert at it. I’m a classic multi-tasker, but I’ve got a lot of relatively okay skills at a lot of things. I’m going to add to that list without beating myself up for not being more focused. And I’ll do as much, or as little, as I feel like, and try to be okay with that.
It will be more problematic to just pick up on the spur of the moment and drive to go see my family in the Hudson Valley and in Connecticut - the roads can be treacherous and the weather is unpredictable. But it’s not impossible. And I’ll figure out a way, because I will miss them.
Mostly, I’ll stay close to home.
We will feed the birds, squirrels and chipmunks. We will catch the mice and moles that try to take refuge in our basement and encourage them to go find somewhere else to winter. I will let our arthritic dog zoom around the snow when she feels up to it, and I’ll bundle up and walk as much as the weather will allow.
I expect business to be slow — it always is, this time of year. And that’s okay. Spring, and work, will be here again soon. For now, I have the luxury of not needing to set an alarm, not needing to drive when the roads are bad. It’s a luxury I appreciate.
In the city, there’s still plenty to do and places to go. I could be envious, but I’m not.
In the country, many activities are suspended, but the monthly classic movie series in the village will continue, and the garden club and writer’s group are meeting again. If I can force myself out the door, there will be places to go and people to see.
To be honest, forcing myself out the door is the hardest part.