Frosty weather set in at the end of November. I know this for a fact because if it had not yet snowed prior to my birthday, as sure as there are stars above, it would snow on November 30th. Always. Until the oft referred to ‘global warming’ began melting icebergs in Antarctica.
On December 21st, I realized that as the days draw nigh earlier, my awakened state is diminished. I long to rest in the green leather wing back recliner poised near the Christmas tree. Through the sheer patterned curtains I observe the blue-black of a night sky scattered with stars. As I wrap my hands around a hot cup of peach herbal tea, my contentment is complete. I am at ease in my domicile on these long winter nights.
I refrain from reading news updates these days; the sensational and the aberrant impinge upon my tranquility. I seek refuge from the restlessness of the world. I envy the luxurious slumber of beasts that snooze throughout the winter. Each morning I coax myself into abandoning the warmth of my bed in order to march once again into the breach that is the working world.
There is nothing that makes the winter solstice more comforting than knowing I will converge with friends over the course of the frosty weekends over brunch, dinner, or drinks. I bask in the witty discourse and laughter of friends and family. Yet I likewise cherish the solitude of my quiet life, my writing life, my inner creative life. Yes, the comfort of winter brings serenity to my spirit each time I observe Fellini and Coco Chanel asleep next to the Christmas tree. We should all be so relaxed and peaceful.
Ciao for now.