Thursday, February 2, 2012
Winter evenings growing up meant staying inside, blasting the heater and living off my mom's homemade cooking. Chilli, stew, spaghetti, homemade biscuits with honey, and popcorn were the love of the family. We didn't have a microwave and my parents rarely cared for canned food, so everything was made from scratch. On rainy winter nights my dad would build a roaring fire for us in the living room and we would all sit around draped in blankets. I had a jolly string of Christmas lights permanently hung in my room. On still cold nights, where all you might've heard was a mild bark of a dog in the distance, I would just lay in my nest of pillows and watch the shadows of the lights play on the wall.
Seasons enchant me. I love to think of them as individual blocks of time, unique to their era and never to be repeated. Each season is never like its prior and can never be repeated. I find myself wanting to do so much more with each season, but it often ends as soon as it comes. Dear Winter, I pledge more cut flowers, more pots of tea, more reading, quilting and soup. I'm loving living in these wintery moments!