I start to whine about the middle of october. that's when I start to get cold. I can't help it. and it doesn't seem to matter that it is still sunny and warm by mid afternoon. my body has some sort of internal clock that senses the impending doom of winter. so I dutifully start layering: tights under my jeans, long sleeves under my fleece under my coat. my feet and my hands are the worst. it doesn't matter how many pairs of socks I wear, how much I invest in slippers and boots, my feet are always always cold. and on top of that, I am one of the lucky ones prone to chilblains (see that? "a predisposed individual"? that's me!) (my family made fun of me for coming up with such a silly name for my sore toes until we stumbled across the phrase in the long winter. and if laura says it, it is true. at least that is the rule in our household.)
but being cold for me is much more than just physical discomfort. winter is about stillness and quiet, a slower pace and a shift to the internal. gone are the long evenings in the hammock and the sunny afternoons of harvesting beans. winter means business, but business with the intent of less. the busy-ness of summer isn't there to distract me anymore. winter calls me to prove to myself that my summer days were well spent, that I stored up enough sunshine in my bones to make it through these darker days. and while I know that this shift of seasons is part of how we keep in balance, how we make the most of every quadrant of life, most of me just longs for the ease of warmth, the time of year I feel most like myself. the cold just reminds me of how much work it is to be still and wait it out, even if that time of stillness is what my body and mind and heart need most.
eric, whose bare skin I am not allowed to touch again until april because my hands are always so cold, has finally said enough is enough. this will be the year of the warm wife. he (with lots of help from our amazing landlords and other homesteading friends) did all the research, legwork, and purchasing necessary to install a wood stove in our happy home. he talked to the chimney guy and the stove guy, he laid tile and tore out drywall. he found a load of firewood to be delivered, and he has been happily splitting for months now. (being the frugal guy he is, he found a deal on wood that wasn't split: three cords for the price of one! he heard "logs" and thought two foot sections were in our future. imagine our surprise when this load of telephone poles arrived for delivery.)
this morning when I got up it was 72 degrees in my kitchen. last year we kept the heat pump set at 60 degrees. this is a wonderful change of pace. eric says he can see my body shift when I start to get cold and he heads downstairs to throw another long or two on the fire. he walks around shirtless most of the time. poor rabbit has had to rearrange her living space to accommodate the wood stove and all the equipment that goes with it, but even that has been okay. and when her mom arrives from hawaii next month, that wood heat will make her feel right at home, I'm sure.
so maybe this really is the year I can embrace winter. this will be the year of coziness and contentedness with the idea of being at home. I will crotchet and read while wearing only one pair of socks. and maybe, if I'm lucky, the temperatures will stay high enough that I can touch my husband's arm without him recoiling in horror. I'm pushing for a chilblain-free winter, one full of quiet reflection and balanced looks ahead. if you need me, I'll be curled up near the wood stove.
“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.”
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