Since we bought our house and have had two children occupying this house with us winters are generally a time when we are huddled up in our home for many days on end, trying to deal with the chill in the house and the icy snow outside the window. I have an active boy that wants to play outside in blizzards and dangerous, plumeting temps. Frost bite does not seem to phase his little cheeks in the slightest.
For me winter ends up being a time to bake, sew, read and write. My garden is buried under 18 inches of compacted ice that once was fluffy snow, so I won’t be doing any winter gardening this year. The writing is the one I get the least time for since I have to put aside a few hours for it if I really want to write anything of substance. It’s painful to be on a roll and have to stop after you just got started. So I keep my time and projects in small chunks. Bake something for an hour, play with kids, clean, read for a half hour, do a bit of schooling with the boy, sew when the kids nap, read before I go to bed. This makes the most sense when you can’t get outside as much as you want.
In the past few weeks I’ve been reading The Art of Commonplace by Wendell Barry, A Christmas Carol by that Dickens fellow, Manhood for Amateurs by Michael Chabon and various children’s books with Christmas themes. I’m in the process of sewing some house slippers so that when people come over and kick their shoes off they have something toasty to slip on between feet and our hardwood floors. I have all of these shrunken wool sweaters that are just asking to be used on someone’s feet. Today I’m making orange and cardamon cookies and hopefully a rocking dinner menu. Winters are frigid here but I have to have a way of hibernating without checking out. It also beats sitting in the snow and weeping as I chew painfully on my mittens. I’m not fond of temps in the single digits.
Here’s to a lovely winter and the hope of a speedy spring!