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the frigid she

driving in to work today was sort of like being delirious.  i’m not the biggest fan of winter, cold weather, or freezing my toes and/or nipples off.  i’m a Southern California kind of girl, and still think of winter as something rainy and foggy, with an added inconvenience of sweatshirts and actually having to wear socks for a change.

last night was the first snow of the year, and it DUMPED on us.  (pictures coming later this evening)  we must have gotten six inches or so, and despite the reality of this snow coming with COLD, it was quite beautiful this morning.

the trees lining the road were all dripping with white, little leaves or berries poking their heads out of the mush.  familiar, mundane streets sparkled in the sun covered in a dusting of diamonds.  and the Michigan sky – usually a flat blanket of grey overcast – was a bright cheery blue, making me forget that winter is evil, and almost convincing me that this season has some value and merit.

of course, we’ll see how i feel in february…

but for now, it’s beautiful.

dichotomy

i don’t know what is going on with wordpress, but apparently i can only upload one image right now.  so here it is…

i love the way everything is at odds with each other, and yet best friends as well.  the sky looks cold and frigid (29 degrees yesterday when i took this) and yet pockets of light here and there make the sky seem hopeful, and like it is considering whether to allow the sun to show through.

the tree is practically barren; shedding all its leaves over the last few weeks has made it feel rather lonely.  and yet, the sassy, polka dot texture of the bark is almost giving a finger to winter, saying “i don’t care if it’s mind blowingly cold…i’m going to be cute anyway!”

too many winters

 

Like a budding spring tree,

I can feel the change coming.

I can sense the

creativity

opening up in me –

slowly, but with purpose

and determination.

But I …

I have seen too many winters.

I have felt the chill

and shivered in it’s embrace.

I have crawled back

into bed

on mornings when

the best I had to offer

was a tested skill

of wrapping myself in

my blankets –

tight –

like a little human

burrito.

And these cold

cold

mornings have left their

print on me,

and seared my body

with an undying

kiss of

frozen-ness.

So I run from life

at the first sign of

winter

and I hide from it all,

afraid my sweatshirts

won’t be warm enough to

protect me

from the elements.

And when the tiny

beautiful voice of spring

rises in my heart

and whispers to me that

I too

can be free

and healthy

and alive

and powerful

I run to my closet

once again

and bury my creative

self

in a pile of sweaters

and blankets and

scarves.

For I must keep her warm –

this muse –

and safely protected.

For I have seen

too many winters,

and I know of the

barrenness of the trees.