Midwinter Magic
Whereas January lasted FOREVER, the ephemeral nature of February calls me to take notice, to linger, to appreciate that winter, too, will come to and end before I know it — and in this phase of my life, time is as precious commodity as The Precious Days it fills.
Photo by Unsplash
It’s February. Some people like to see February as the halfway point from when winter begins to take shape in Vermont to when we begin to experience a genuine spring-like pattern of weather, give or take the effects of climate change. But I have a more celebratory approach to February. After what seemed to be 182 days of January, I am not wishing February away too quickly. Most of the magic of February lasts only a day at a time, then the weather (or my mood and motivation) will change. Whereas the dark days of January lasted FOREVER, the ephemeral nature of increasing blue skies and sunshine in February calls me to take notice, to linger, to appreciate that the days can both remind us of the beauty of winter AND that winter will come to an end before we know it. So I will love it and not rush it. In this phase of my life, time is as precious a commodity as The Precious Days it fills.
So it’s time to pay tribute to a few of the beautiful aspects of this month that are bringing me joy. Events and experiences can feel life magic in the humdrum of cold, gray winter days in January. And I’ve decided that this year I am going to start celebrating February not as midwinter, but as the end of winter — March gets to be spring in my book no matter how much snow falls. 😉
What I am loving about February…
Noticeable amounts of light creeping in. By mid-February it stays light until almost 5:30. By the end of the month, it edges even closer to 6:00. The effect of that extra light is extra energy,
Brilliant sunrises and sunsets. With sunrise happening close to 7:00, it’s wonderful to wake up to pink ombré skies and end the day with the golden, fiery glow of the sky reaching toward the lake.
An entire week of sun, blue skies, and springlike temps. Here in Vermont, February often splurges by giving us an entire week of false spring. February 2024 gave us a spectacular one recently and it was just the midwinter tonic we needed!
Super Bowl Sunday. If I am invested in one of the teams, that’s just a bonus. My husband and I love to watch the game, enjoy our Super Bowl snacks, and comment on the commercials. It’s an all around fun night and a February celebration we look forward to.
Spring training. Right around the Super Bowl, pitchers and catchers report to spring training, followed by the rest of the players mid-February. By the end of the month, all teams are seeing pre-game action, and it’s time to get ready for opening day at the end of March.
Valentine’s Day. I love this holiday purely for the fact that it breaks up February. I still send Valentines and try to coax my husband into doing something special. This year he made me smoked salmon Eggs Benedict. ❤️
Fat Tuesday. I love to catch some of Mardi Gras festivities on television, and enjoy some pancakes. I’m reminded of a trip to New Orleans, years ago, the crowded streets, the music, the beignets, and those delicious Hurricanes.
Backyard Birds. early birdsong. By February the Carolina wren is beginning to serenade us in the mornings again. The chickadees trill a more spring-like song, and even the cardinals are warming up to join the chorus. And by February, I’m convinced the little red-bellied woodpecker on the suet feeder is my personal pet.
Waiting for a BIG snowstorm. We usually get one in February, and then another in March. I look forward to the quiet of the fresh snow, and a chance of seeing a bright red cardinal on a snow covered branch.
Harvesting the lettuce from our AeroGarden. After the holidays we always plant a variety of lettuce in our hydroponic garden. By February we are eating our own fresh lettuce from our little soil-free garden and discussing what we’ll actually plant in May.
Hot drinks all day long. Decaf lattes, London Fogs, and every kind of herbal tea you can think of (but I am partial to Pukka’s Chamomile, Vanilla, and Manuka Honey) occupy cup after cup once the electric kettle is plugged in each morning.
Shaking up my reading routines. In February, I start to turn to more non-fiction. I also begin to make “collections” of books I want to read and compare before the sunny warm days set in. This February, I went on an internet expedition to purchase used copies of May Sarton’s novels I haven’t read (note to readers — there were a lot!)
Store-bought tulips, hyacinths, and daffodils. No trip to the grocery store is complete without grabbing a bouquet of pink, white, or yellow tulips. A trip to Trader Joe’s produced one small bunch of purple hyacinths that had the house smelling glorious for days. Can’t wait to see the first display of daffodil bunches (last year they had to put up a sign in the produce section informing people they were NOT bunches of asparagus).
Time for the annual puzzles. Each year my husband and I gift each other puzzles. In February, we put them together. Last year I gave up, and my husband finished the 1000 pieces himself. This year, we’re going with a 500 piece puzzle, and I’m in.
It’s a leap year. So I will get to love February for an extra day!
Coming out of winter hibernation. During February, I come out of my January funk and hibernation. The end of February signals it’s time to get ready for spring. I’ll be doing a lot of thinking about my 2024 ONE WORD, renewal.
Looks like we’ve just about made it! 🙂
How about you? What’s delighting you about February?
Walking Out of Winter and into Spring
It was walking that pulled me through.
As I venture into this blog, the promise of spring in the form of a south wind is breathing bluster all over this April day. Hallelujah. In the Green Mountain State we put a lot of pressure on April to perform – the expectation directly in proportion to how awful the winter experience may have been for us. This one, for me, was a humdinger. It was neither snow nor cold that brought me down, I expect that out of the first three months of the year. It was the darkness, which seemed endless. Like our own version of polar night, the dark mornings turned into dark afternoons, and then into early, endless evenings.
This was my first winter of full retirement. I retired from public education in June of 2021 and moved right into a part time role as the Executive Director of a state-level curriculum organization. I had little room for negative headspace, and winter flew by as it had all 42 years of working in education, the rhythm of the seasons propelling the work of a school year. My husband, who retired earlier than me to start his own business, then fully retired when a heart attack weaseled its way into his work day, had warned me that I had to have a plan or I’d be in trouble after the holidays. Phhttt, I thought. I would be just fine. I was still on the holiday high, during which I pranced through the days with a giddy, childlike euphoria, experiencing the magic of the season from the day after Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day. Yup, all good, I told him. Hobbies? I already do Morning Pages faithfully every single day. I attend a writing workshop a few times a month. I read books. I’m in a book group for Pete’s sake! I. will. be. just. fine. Reader, I was not fine.
As I said, January was dark, practically sunless. February was, well, February. I’ve never had any expectations for February. I just let it be what it wants to be. It, too, wanted to be dark for too many days (although it looked for a while like it would be much brighter – but that had a short life). Then March, the home stretch, almost over, right? Nope. More dark, cloudy, gloomy days. More snow.
With each month, I clung to a few things that were saving my life. During January, I tried to notice the growing light at the end of each day. I wasn’t too successful at that; to me, it was imperceptible. So I looked for light in other places, and was much more successful. One was in Mary Pipher’s A Life In Light: Meditations on Impermanence. The other was in my light therapy box. Both helped immensely. In February it was reading (you can see my books by month on my Instagram Account or on Goodreads), more Mary Pipher, lots of reading on women aging, a few pop-up streams of melting snow, and British television. And it was by the end February I thought, now is the time for my own blog. That will save me! But then March brought more cold, more dark skies, more snow, and writer’s block.
So how did I actually get here? How did I get to this page, to this place in April? How did I go from so not fine to bearable to the thing with feathers?
It was walking that pulled me through.
During those dark three months, I walked. Some days I walked alone. I ruminated, I planned, I wrote hundreds of first sentences for the yet to materialize blog posts. Sometimes I walked with a friend. Sometimes I walked on the treadmill. But I walked every day, from 2 to 4 miles. In walking to get away from my winter self, I found that “hope springs eternal” gal I was looking for. And before I knew it, I had walked into April.
“Walking brings me back to myself.”
So here I am. I’ve turned the corner yet again. What have I learned about myself this winter? Well, I have learned that my husband, who knows me better than anyone, was right. I am a person who believes I am enough. But this winter, I did not plan for “enough.” It won’t be long before I am doing the same giddy dance into the late spring and summer months, the gorgeous autumn, then onto the holidays…and will I remember what I need to do for the months of January, February, and March? Join me here, stay with me if you can, and we’ll figure it out together when the time comes. But for now, I’m going to live fully and enjoy The Precious Days of spring.
I’d love to know what you do to get through the winter months if they are difficult for you or what you love most about spring. Drop me a comment along with any ideas for topics you’d like to see explored here on the blog.
Cannonball!
Deep breath, here we go!
“And once when you weren't looking, I did a cannonball. Did a cannonball.”
Loudon Wainwright III
Deep breath, here we go!
The Precious Days blog is my attempt to produce the kind of content that I have been looking for since I made the decision in 2022 to fully retire. Its content is framed not so much on presenting answers or solutions, but on an exploration of the questions, topics, issues, and potential adventures and celebrations that arise for women at this time of life.
When I was younger, I assumed by this age I’d have most of the big stuff figured out. Settled. I thought if I were financially smart about retirement, I would “coast” into blissville. Nothing could be further from my reality. Let me say without reservation that I acknowledge my privilege in being financially “okay” for this time of life. Still, the daily road has been bumpy; no amount of financial preparation could make up for how psychologically unprepared I was for how I would spend these retirement days.
Recently, while listening to one of my favorite McGarrigle Sisters albums, Tell My Sister, the lyrics to one song spoke to me in a flashing neon allegory:
“This summer I went swimming
This summer I might have drowned
But I held my breath and I kicked my feet
And I moved my arms around
Moved my arms around
This summer I swam in the ocean
And I swam in a swimming pool
Salt my wounds, chlorined my eyes
I’m a self destructive fool
I’m a self destructive fool
This summer I did the backstroke
And you know that that’s not all
I did the breaststroke and the butterfly
And the old Australian crawl
The old Australian crawl
This summer I swam in a public place
And a reservoir to boot
At the latter I was informal
At the former I wore my suit
I wore my swimming suit, yeah
This summer I did swan dives
And jack knives for you all
And once when you weren’t looking
I did a cannonball
Did a cannonball
This summer I went swimming
This summer I might have drowned
But I held my breath and I kicked my feet
And I moved my arms around
Moved my arms around
Hey!”
The Swimming Song, written by Louden Wainwright III and performed by Kate and Anna, is without a doubt the perfect metaphor for the space I occupy as I venture into The Precious Days. And although the name of the blog is an homage to September Song, this phase of my life does feel like the summer of learning to swim. Sometimes the explorations and lessons of these days will be a tentative toe dip (WHAT am I doing?), sometimes an elegant breast stroke (Glide through the day and enjoy it all, girl.), and once in a while, an astonishing cannonball (Take that risk; this IS the right time, woman!).
It is my hope that this blog serves many purposes for readers and for me. It chronicles this new journey in uncharted waters. It helps me to be accountable about being real about retirement–with you and with myself. It fulfills a burning desire and a need to write and research. Most especially, it has the potential to form a community with women who, like me, have more days behind them than ahead of them–the all important “third act” as it’s sometimes called. This is a time when there is so much to figure out, so much to learn, so much to give and receive, and so much to enjoy and perhaps suffer through–but I’m determined to finally learn to live The Swimming Song in The Precious Days. I’ve been treading water long enough.
The Precious Days will be filled with joy and angst, clarity and uncertainty, discovery and letting go, as well as endless questions and burning issues to explore. So glad we can do this together. I’d hate for you to miss my cannonball!
Drop me a comment with suggested issues or topics to explore that would be meaningful to you!