Winter Blues and January Grays
Frozen Thoughts
January is the worst month of the year. For many people, it’s “New year, new you,” but for me, it’s cold and dreary and without merit. The weather in Michigan has been extremely cold this month. Our recent gas bill tells me that our natural gas consumption for January 2025 is 10% higher than January 2024. That’s because I’ve been running our fireplace to keep my warm as I sit at my writing desk.
I am eternally grateful for the blessing of this fireplace and this writing desk facing the window where I can watch squirrels chase each other along the top of the fence. Little brown birds perch on the wire that runs from the pole to our house, connecting our internet to the rest of the world so I can send this to you.
My bones feel bruised from the cold, and my skin is dry and itchy from the constant heat blasting from the fireplace as I try to thaw the marrow in those aching bones. But I have a home that is warm and safe, someone who loves me, and two little dogs who demand my attention away from my own worries.
There are changes occurring in the world that threaten the safety and security of everyone who lives a simple, quiet life. Retirees, the disabled, the unemployed, the underemployed - anyone who does not fit the mold of the new conformity. These worries scrabble at the back of my mind like mice in a pantry.
We cut down the tree in the front yard a few weeks ago. It was home to several squirrels, and I watched them scurry to seek new shelter in the middle of the winter, as they became suddenly unhomed. My heart ached for them, but the tree was going to land on our house if we had another strong storm, so it had to come down. How many of us will be like those squirrels, hurrying to find shelter, food, security, in the coming months? How many of us, like the tree, cannot withstand another storm?
My aches seem insignificant compared to the pain of others, but together, our pain reaches a magnitude that cannot be ignored. Today, more than ever, we need to build connective tissue to support the bones of our communities. Reach out to find where you can be of help. We all need each other if we are going to weather the coming storm.
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We spent last week in Iceland, where I adapted easily to the cold and to their 5 hrs of daylight. I typically detest the cold, but this was lovely—I slowed down, ate well, followed the rhythm of near-Arctic days despite our only truly dry and sunny day being the day we left. It was a glorious, restful, yet invigorating week! Did not look forward to our return stateside, but now we’re here so we have to make the best of it. All that to say that you are definitely not alone. We all have and are kindred souls. Bless-bless, as the Icelanders say.
I admit to be fond of this melancholy time of year. Keeps me centered in my werid way. Beautiful message as you are.