Ready Or Not, Here It Comes
I looked winter in the face today and didn't like what I saw.
Now, to be fair, the temperatures were only in the low sixties, and it was only the first grey day after an abundance of sunshine, but the children still wore mittens when they collected tomatoes from the garden, and I still suddenly felt that a batch of chili was no longer out of season.
Instead of feeling energized by the nip in the air, however, I felt a rising panic.
I am not ready for cozy. I am not ready for every recipe that comes my way to have pumpkin pie spice in it. I am not ready to put summertime back in storage.
I never am.
If I were a monarch butterfly, I would be on the wing right about now, flying for warmer lands and skipping out on the whole business of winter entirely.
I have said before that if winter were all about curling up with tea and books, I wouldn't mind it so much, but the problem is that winter is about three children cooped up in the house for too many hours in one day. It's about teaching school when the books have lost their gloss, having a new full time job of wiping snow puddles off the floor, and of being the owner of perpetually cold feet.
Today I looked winter in the face and saw a stranger that looked all too familiar.
And right now I am wondering how I'll ever welcome him as a friend instead of a foe.
Now, to be fair, the temperatures were only in the low sixties, and it was only the first grey day after an abundance of sunshine, but the children still wore mittens when they collected tomatoes from the garden, and I still suddenly felt that a batch of chili was no longer out of season.
Instead of feeling energized by the nip in the air, however, I felt a rising panic.
I am not ready for cozy. I am not ready for every recipe that comes my way to have pumpkin pie spice in it. I am not ready to put summertime back in storage.
I never am.
If I were a monarch butterfly, I would be on the wing right about now, flying for warmer lands and skipping out on the whole business of winter entirely.
I have said before that if winter were all about curling up with tea and books, I wouldn't mind it so much, but the problem is that winter is about three children cooped up in the house for too many hours in one day. It's about teaching school when the books have lost their gloss, having a new full time job of wiping snow puddles off the floor, and of being the owner of perpetually cold feet.
Today I looked winter in the face and saw a stranger that looked all too familiar.
And right now I am wondering how I'll ever welcome him as a friend instead of a foe.
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