I know it’s not My Beloved Sandra’s favorite season and—to be honest—it’s not mine, either. It clearly has its drawbacks, especially here in The Northeast Kingdom, where it starts early and lasts forever. But I know this much: I write more (and I believe I write better) in winter. I don’t know if it’s because the world tends to close in around me, forcing me to pay more attention, or if it’s because there’s less daylight (I am most definitely a writer-in-the-dark).
Maybe it’s because I can see my breath. Sometimes I have trouble believing that I’ve survived this long; that I’m actually still alive.
Maybe it’s because winter, more than the other seasons, forces us to surrender to our powerlessness and accept our true place in the Universe.
Whatever. This early in the season, my Love/Hate relationship with winter is in the Love phase. Check back with me in a couple months. I’ll probably be singing the Icicle Blues.