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Snow is finally here. I'm watching the big, soft flakes come down outside the window as I type this. I used to love the snow when I was younger. Even into my 30s I appreciated the Winter as a time when I could wear sweaters and jeans (two of my favorites) and curl up after work with slippers and a blanket. Somewhere in my mid-30s I started to grow weary of the cold and began to favor the temperate climate and beauty of Spring and Fall.
The last several years, this year being no exception, Fall has lasted longer than usual making me a happy camper. I was dreading Winter and the snow, like I have for the last several years, but now that's it's here I'm filled with a sense of calm. Everything is awash in brilliant white, and it's almost as if nature is erasing the old to make way for the new (which is kind of what happens).
Instead of my usual melancholy of not being able to get out and enjoy a good hike in nature for several months, I am admiring the beauty outside and thinking of all the great writing I can get done. There is a lot of inspiration to be had in the chill of the season. I'm also looking forward to herbal tea, puffy blankets, silly movies with my kids, and some good Winter reading as well.
Maybe this will not be the Winter of my discontent.