Snow days and growing up

Something about waking up to the hush that comes about on a snowy morning turns me into a giddy 8 year old inside. I love it. Not that I rush right out and jump in it like I used to. Being older and crabby about getting cold and wet gets in the way. (What is it about getting older that makes us more susceptible to the weather extremes?) I did however get up at 6:30 and take my dog out. It is endlessly amusing to watch a stubby legged dog try and come to terms with the cold, wet, sticking to his legs quality of snow. (It is also a lot harder to pick up after your pet in the snow, especially when it's still dark outside, because it melts down into the snow and you have to plunge your hand in after it.)

The other amusing thing about waking up to snow that wasn't there the night before is not the sounds of delight emanating from the neighbor kids outside, but the flood of texts I got from grown people exclaiming and heralding the snow. Some from co-workers out of joy for an unexpected day off. Others from people whom I would have expected to be asleep talking about wishes for snow coming true. My mother called what feels like 8 or 9 times to check on us. (In reality it was only twice I think, and both times she had other reasons for calling but still. "Did you see the snow!?") I sat and watched the snow on my back porch very early this morning and drank some tea and realized that I must be at least a little more grown up that I used to be because when I was a child, I would look at it and think "Well, I don't know about all the beauty crap the adults are talking about, but it's going to need to snow a lot more before there is enough for the snow fort!" Now that I am considered an adult I look at the snow and think to myself how beautiful it is. And THEN consider forts, snow ball fights and snow angels.

Facebook statuses are primarily about snow, hot chocolate, and maybe a few gripes about having to work in it. I heard my neighbor upstairs singing a song about the joy of snow days while her children chanted for hot chocolate. I may or may not have thrown a snow ball or two at the kids outside, and may or may not have thrown some at my dog just to watch him run wild in confusion and joy.

It may be less than an inch on the ground, and it may be almost entirely gone by noon, but I love that something so simple can elicit so much joy in people.

Every winter, the days become dark and gray, the world outside my home is under constant assault of Oregon's indecisive weather, and I mentally and emotionally crawl inside of myself. Without fail, every year when this time rolls around, as I trudge out of bed and off to the obligations the day brings, all I really want to do is stay home in my warm, comfortable house, drink tea, make art, read books and cook good food. I love it.

And I think that maybe it's a little odd for someone who has a tendency to get suffocated pretty quickly in situations, relationships, jobs, friendships and anything else that I would be so completely happy at the prospect of holing up inside of myself, inside of my apartment. But I can't help it. I love spending the day moving from project to project as my attention or desire wanders. I love the smell of baking, and beeswax candles that burn all day. I love taking my time.

And I think that is really what it comes down to. A craving for time. It is a luxury to be able to wander as I please. The world around me naturally goes to sleep during the winter months, it's a natural inclination to slow down that drives me to shut out the rest of the world and just be with myself for a bit.

For years I have felt that in someway, it is selfish or strange or unacceptable for me to do that. But this year I am practicing radical self care and have decided to honor that need inside of me instead of fight it. While I may not be able to sleep until I am ready to open my eyes everyday, the fact that I know I have carved out time in my life to be able to do this SOMETIMES is rejuvenating and feels awesome. I have already noticed a huge difference as I do this. Instead of feeling at odds with the world around me and that incredible stress that plagues a lot of people this time of year, I have a quiet sense of peace at my core.

And with that, it is time to take cinnamon rolls out of the oven, and pick out yarn from my stash for that new scarf I have been wanting to try my hand at crocheting.

Happy Sunday.