Midwestern winters.
Those who have experienced one knows the beginning of the year in Ohio is gray, bleak, freezing, snowy.
We've come to expect it. Surviving January is a rite of passage -- February may be difficult, but it's only one month away from the spring we've earned.
By the time March rolls around, we're as tired of sledding, hot cocoa and warm fires as we are piles of dirty slush, wearing five layers and falling on our keester in the icy driveway.
How we looked forward to all the charm that winter had to offer just a short time ago.
Such a fickle people we are.
What we once viewed as new and exciting becomes mundane and challenging. What we once looked forward to has become dull and expected. Charm dissipates into daily drudge. Joy only occasionally lifts its head, afraid of what might happen if it shows itself.
Before we know it, life has turned into a midwestern winter.
January in Ohio.
Winter has raged a little too long in my soul of late. What should have just been a cold snap has, at times, exhibited blizzard-like whiteouts that had me pulling over to the side of the road, unable to see a foot in front of me. Dumped piles of wet, heavy snow on my plans. Hidden the sun behind gray clouds for months on end.
Iced over my heart.
But like all good midwesterners, I plod on through the unwelcome winter. I work. Raise the children. Tackle the chores and errands. Feed the cat. Go to church. Pay the bills.
Do it all again tomorrow. And the day after that.
And dream of spring.
So this January has surprised me.
Instead of piles of snow, we are waterlogged. It may rain all morning, only to erupt into sunshine and bizarrely mild temperatures by lunch. The girls and I slightly bundle up to venture out into this odd winter that seems displaced, somehow lost from our southern neighbors. They are delighted to ride bikes, chalk the driveway, dig in the dirt. I am equally delighted to rake the yard, make leaf compost, and dig in the dirt.
Flowerbeds have been expanded. Neatened. Straightened. A new one planned and begun.
The weather is confusing my yard. Trees and bushes are budding. Bulbs are peeking out of their cold beds.
I worry -- we could have a hard freeze. I hate to see them go to so much effort to share beauty and live life...only to be ruined by forces beyond their control.
Yet it doesn't seem to deter them. They remain stubbornly in place, ignoring the cold winds, reaching for whatever sunshine they are offered -- convinced they will bloom brilliantly when spring returns.
Perhaps....like me.
If I can just get through January.
Those who have experienced one knows the beginning of the year in Ohio is gray, bleak, freezing, snowy.
We've come to expect it. Surviving January is a rite of passage -- February may be difficult, but it's only one month away from the spring we've earned.
By the time March rolls around, we're as tired of sledding, hot cocoa and warm fires as we are piles of dirty slush, wearing five layers and falling on our keester in the icy driveway.
How we looked forward to all the charm that winter had to offer just a short time ago.
Such a fickle people we are.
What we once viewed as new and exciting becomes mundane and challenging. What we once looked forward to has become dull and expected. Charm dissipates into daily drudge. Joy only occasionally lifts its head, afraid of what might happen if it shows itself.
Before we know it, life has turned into a midwestern winter.
January in Ohio.
Winter has raged a little too long in my soul of late. What should have just been a cold snap has, at times, exhibited blizzard-like whiteouts that had me pulling over to the side of the road, unable to see a foot in front of me. Dumped piles of wet, heavy snow on my plans. Hidden the sun behind gray clouds for months on end.
Iced over my heart.
But like all good midwesterners, I plod on through the unwelcome winter. I work. Raise the children. Tackle the chores and errands. Feed the cat. Go to church. Pay the bills.
Do it all again tomorrow. And the day after that.
And dream of spring.
So this January has surprised me.
Instead of piles of snow, we are waterlogged. It may rain all morning, only to erupt into sunshine and bizarrely mild temperatures by lunch. The girls and I slightly bundle up to venture out into this odd winter that seems displaced, somehow lost from our southern neighbors. They are delighted to ride bikes, chalk the driveway, dig in the dirt. I am equally delighted to rake the yard, make leaf compost, and dig in the dirt.
Flowerbeds have been expanded. Neatened. Straightened. A new one planned and begun.
The weather is confusing my yard. Trees and bushes are budding. Bulbs are peeking out of their cold beds.
I worry -- we could have a hard freeze. I hate to see them go to so much effort to share beauty and live life...only to be ruined by forces beyond their control.
Yet it doesn't seem to deter them. They remain stubbornly in place, ignoring the cold winds, reaching for whatever sunshine they are offered -- convinced they will bloom brilliantly when spring returns.
Perhaps....like me.
If I can just get through January.
Bring on the snow! :-)
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