How can it be that I haven't been out to the woods in over a week? I could blame the weather, especially the warmth and rain that have ruined the little snow we had and weakened the newly formed ice on the lake. But frankly, I've just been too busy with holiday preparations, as well as hindered by old-age aches and pains that exacerbate my fear of falling on ice or the misery I feel when a cold wind worms its way into my ears. To console myself a bit, I looked back over my blog posts of previous years to remind myself that winter holds more delights than discomforts for me. I particularly liked a meditation on winter I posted in 2016 on Winter Solstice, and I'm posting it again as Winter Solstice is upon us once more.
The Sun Returns as Winter Begins
I do love winter. Especially ones with deep cold and deeper snow. I want the lakes and the river bays to freeze thick and hard, so that I can safely cross their frozen expanses and make my way back into the swamps and marshes and bogs too muddy for exploring in summer. I want the snow deep and soft in the woods, so that I can marvel at how many creatures pass there, coyotes and minks and foxes and fishers and bobcats and more, animals I would never know lived in these woods, if not for their tracks and trails. I want nights so cold and clear I can see all the way to heaven, with stars so bright they pierce the eye, and sub-zero days with deep-blue skies and frost-spangled air that glitters with sequined snowflakes.
So yes, I do celebrate the return of the light and the promise it holds of warmer seasons to come. But I also delight in all of the beauties of winter. Without that cold, I could never find hoarfrost stars exploding from the surface of clear black ice.