A Little Ice on Everything

New England’s Thanksgiving weather was extraordinary; there were bright blue cloudless skies with temperatures hitting close to 50 degrees in my little corner of Maine.  This was healthy, walking-off-the-pie weather.

“Black Friday” wasn’t a bad day either, until about 2:00 p.m.  I was planting tulip bulbs in my “Redemption Garden” and I felt the temperature slipping down a few degrees.   The planter’s soil hadn’t frozen yet and I was able to get the bulbs safely tucked away for their long winter’s nap.  I zipped over to my friend’s garage and hung around while he welded the tines into Uncle Bob’s hand rototiller for me.  We chatted a bit after he finished; he must have been wearing more layers than me because when I said I was freezing, he gave me a strange look.

By Sunday morning, the wind had picked up and the temperatures had finally settled into “the 30’s.”

My father and I took a walk on The Farm, looking for some red winter berries.  We didn’t find any berries, but we found the ground was frozen hard and every puddle had a thin coating of ice.

Even though the sun was bright, it pledged nothing but betrayal in its ability to keep us warm.  December was upon us; there was no turning back now.  In spite of holiday hysteria, it’s a good time to make peace with the shorter days, the colder temperatures, and the possibility of snow.  December and January can be interesting months of introspection and planning.  By adjusting my expectations during these difficult months, I’ve grown to love the opportunities that exist for peace and light during the darkest days of winter.

Admittedly, I’ll need some “Bob Cratchit” fingerless gloves for days like today when I’m tapping out my blog from the exterior of the Lisbon Library.

This week, I’m going to offer some ideas for rethinking December.  Please stop by for a December draught of fresh and crisp metaphorical air.  Don’t forget your gloves.

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