“Never take a job where winter winds can blow up your pants.”

Today is a balmy 27°. Last night went into single digits, but I’m not complaining. This has been too warm a winter to warrant any complaints. Not only that but it’s already mid-January, and we haven’t had any snow. I guess my sled will stay in the cellar for a while longer.

I crave color. The world is just so drab after Christmas. Dead leaves hang on the branches, and the tall brown trunks of pine trees stand silhouetted against a muted blue sky. Here and there people still have Christmas lights lit every night, and I appreciate their gestures. I buy cut flowers for the house around this time of year. Their colors remind me that there will be a spring. I just have to be more patient.

My house is a dust bowl. I think I saw Tom Joad upstairs the other day so I’ve made the committment to dust and polish this room today. It is where I spend the most time so it will get the most attention. I hate to clean. It seems like such a waste of time when I could be reading or doing absolutely nothing. Also, the plants need to be watered. It sounds like a work day to me.

Yesterday afternoon I just couldn’t get warm. I was chilled to the bone. I turned up the heat, but that didn’t help. I added a few layers, a long sleeve shirt under my sweatshirt and a pair of socks over my cozies, but they didn’t help either. A cup of coffee tasted great, but only my hands around the cup got warm for only a short while. I tried to take a nap under the down comforter but still felt chilled so I couldn’t fall asleep. My feet were the worst. They were freezing so put on wool socks. Finally my feet got warm and the warmth spread. I was comfortable all evening and thankful for my wool socks even if they do have a few holes.

Last week was really busy. This week is an empty dance card. I won’t see another person until Thursday for our weekly trivia night. Summer is filled with people and voices and sounds. The winter is silent.

“Silence is a sounding thing, to one who listens hungrily.”

This morning was warm, sunny and quiet when I left for breakfast. When I got home, my yardmen were just finishing clearing the pine needles from the front lawn and the oak leaves from the deck and driveway. I could see grass and pavement for the first time in a long while; however, soon after the men left, the wind started again, and the pine needled have begun reclaiming the lawn. Now the clouds have rolled in and the sun has disappeared. The day is much like yesterday, drab.

While I was talking to my sister, I watched out the window at one leaf twirling at the end of an oak branch as the wind was swinging it. The leaf would turn from left to right then back again. I was rooting for that leaf, but the wind was too strong. It took the leaf which drifted to the ground to become one of many in my backyard. I thought about that leaf and realized why I always think of this season as fall.

I buy flowers for my house this time of year. I start to crave color, and flowers always seem to pull me from the grayness of late fall and winter. The flowers I buy tend to yellows and pinks. They are the bright colors, the colors of my summer garden, and they always remind me that winter is but one of four seasons.

The only sound I hear is the deep breathing of Gracie as she naps on the couch.  It will be a quiet day. It is the essense of me today.