frost on the farm

This morning I woke up to a world of stunning frostiness. Winter has finally come to our part of the world and I am totally okay with it. I mean - look how beautiful our yard was while I was doing chores.
I’ve been thinking about how Winter encourages slow living. Daylight hours shorten, temperatures drop and sometimes deep snow makes it impossible to leave the house. So we invest our time in projects like home improvements, crafting, cooking good things, music and reading thick books. Out of necessity we go outside to split wood or shovel snow, and even though we grumble about such things, we secretly enjoy the vigorous exercise. Not to mention how satisfying it is, to come inside from the cold and make ourselves cozy with hot tea by the heater (or wood stove).
Already Charlie and I are slowing down, bundling up against the cold and preparing for our human version of hibernation. Charlie has started a batch of pumpernickel bread he learned to make from a gentleman in Sweden. The bread takes 5 days to make - from mixing the dough, to setting overnight, to baking loaves. I have started learning how to knit. (Charlie says this makes me an old grandma - which I take as a compliment.) I love the rhythm of the needles - the texture of wool yarn. To me, knitting, or any kind of handiwork, is relaxing. Therapeutic.
Last night, I rummaged through our closet to find hats and gloves, and we donned four or five layers of clothing to go for a night hike. Even though the sky was cloudy - threatening to snow - I could see the Big Dipper, hanging low and bright near a line of treetops. Our breath came out in clouds and my toes were numb, but we were happy walking hand in hand.
I guess what I’m saying is this: use this season as an opportunity to slow down. Don’t hesitate to start a creative project or pick up a stack of reading material. Make the most of cold evenings at home, but also go outside to admire Winter’s frigid beauty.

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