thawing

we owe winter an apology. she’s actually quite lovely, once you get to know her ❄️

Winter is gnarled branches black against a gray sky; cold, white deserts cut through by frozen creeks; icy moons against raven heavens; pale, high-noon sun and long, lonely shadows. To winter is attributed long, dark nights and short, Baltic days; barrenness; isolation, desolation, lack, wanting; loneliness, melancholy; and any number of cold, gray descriptions and feelings. It is a season without color, a time to wait out, at least, that’s what so many will have you think. When the days are darkest and we, coldest, we forget that winter is not mercilessly fierce, but rather mercifully giving.

shot on iPhone three winters ago :)

Come February, when the world’s been cold and icy for as long as memory serves, it is easy to forget the darkest days are behind us, are, in fact, not part of winter at all, but belong to the very end of autumn. Winter begins in mid-December and ushers in the age of light. On the first day of winter, the sun shines a little longer. Days lengthen incrementally and so begins the slow, icy journey from the frigid end of autumn to the rainy start of spring. It is monochromatic with surprising bursts of evergreen, and powder blue skies, and color; a quiet, reflective time of year interspersed with lovely birdsong and satisfying boot crunches and crackling fires and honest conversation. Winter is a return—to favorite books and TV shows and films, to slower living. A time for resolutions, a restart. Winter is not bleak—though it can be—but, rather, hopeful. Winter is the promise that each night will be a little shorter, each day will last a little longer, be a little warmer. On the most arctic days, we take comfort in the simplest pleasures: a well-worn sweater, a fuzzy blanket, an extra cup of hot tea in the middle of the afternoon. On the snowiest days, we romanticize childhood, and how the snowflakes dance to earth, and the way the early evening light slants through the living room window. On the sunniest days, we anticipate those lovely first blooms of spring.

When winter starts, we start to thaw. Where winter is, so, too, is hope. 

stumbled upon this scene during an afternoon walk two winters ago. shot on iPhone:)

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Katherine Mansfield is a former journalist-turned-stay-at-home-mom to two wonderful littles who now writes a couple minutes at a time throughout the day to meet deadlines she sets (and often misses) for herself. When she isn’t delighting in or writing sappy musings on motherhood, she loves watching classic films with her husband, having long talks with friends over copious amounts of coffee, and reading. If you like what you read, please like, share, or leave a comment. If you really like what you read, consider becoming a subscriber or making a one-time contribution to Mansfield’s coffee fund. :)