When Old Man Winter wakes from his annual slumber, I don my coat and my heart becomes bitterly cold. Yearly, he knocks on my door. I always turn him away and tell him that the table is set for Spring. I pray for the thaws of Spring with all of her hope and warmth. My spirit goes into hibernation until the first flower blooms with Spring’s joyful tears.
In mid January, I felt restless with the snow falling. I bundled up in search of a cure to this restlessness. As I walked around my back yard, a blaze of red caught my eye. At first I thought it was a flower, but I heard Old Man Winter laughing in the wind. As I moved in with excitement, I realized it was sumac seeds. I giddily took pictures and was filled with great joy at the beauty before me. As I walked back to the house, I began to cry as my spirit started to wake from the normal hibernation.
In a moment, I became a vessel of gratitude. Gratitude for the season. Gratitude for the beauty of nature. Gratitude for Old Man Winter stirring my spirit.
Winter doesn’t happen TO me or you, it happens FOR us, loves.
Next post, winter’s preparations. A more technical piece on what work I do in winter to prepare for foraging in the spring.