THANKFUL FRIDAY

The ground is blanketed with a layer of snow from last weekends storms. There are a few patches, here and there, where the brown winter grass is showing. Those are the places that have seen more direct sunlight, but the temperatures have remained too frigid for much thawing. The table in our backyard is usually a good measure for the amount of snow fallen at a time. No one was willing to trudge out there this time with a ruler. My guess would be that by last Sunday morning, we received about six inches of snow. Hardly unmanageable. Each day, I’ve watched that snow dwindling from that table top.

There’s still just a tiny bit left.

I’ve been waiting for this, bracing myself for the months of bitter cold. December was practically balmy here, a rare occurrence and one that immediately put me on guard for the coming months. I live in the midwest. Winters are cold and miserable. I want to say that I am made of the hearty stock of ancestors who pioneered their way across the prairies here and carved out homesteads in the plains. My ancestors were hearty enough to survive a boat trip across the Atlantic and then made their way directly south. I was not born to endure this kind of weather, but we are adaptable by nature. I have better winter clothing, enough fleece lined pants for a week and thick wool socks. I do not have to endure anything.

I only have to tolerate it.

I know I should be taking advantage of being stuck inside. There are a number of projects I could work on while sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket. The other night, I woke up from a dream and couldn’t go back to sleep because the dream was a story that could be written. I proceeded to mental write this story until I finally forced myself back to sleep. What I should have done was just gotten out of bed and physically write that story down or at least a synopsis of the story so that it could be added to the pile of unfinished bits of fiction I have worked on off and on over the years. Instead, I laid there with my eyes closed and focused my attention on the space at the top of my head between my brain and skull, mentally telling myself to go to sleep.

Winter is so strange.

There’s a reason so many horror stories and thrillers take place during winter months. The hours of darkness are longer than the hours of light and things lurk in the dark. The stories are meant to encourage us to stay inside, safe and warm. But it is a Catch 22. While we’re inside, safe and warm, our minds are free to wander and our imaginations can exaggerate the dangers of the darkness. The medium sized wolf from a tale, can easily morph into beast standing on hind legs, razor sharp teeth bared, ready to rip out a throat. We often channel our imaginations to exaggerate the worst things about the dark and forget all about the goodness of darkness. I like to think about what’s happening in the soil in the darkness right now. I like to imagine seeds vibrating with the energy they’re storing up, waiting for the right time to start sprouting. So much happens before a plant from a seed even gets a glimpse of the sun. Roots start and then the epicotyl emerges. That’s the part that turns into stems and leaves, but it doesn’t do that until it pokes through the earth.

Growth happens in the dark.

I know this. I know that this is the time of year for gathering the energy required for sprouting. I know that there’s more good to be found in the dark than we think there is. Good things happened this week. The National Guard deployed in Minnesota joyfully handed out hot drinks and donuts to protestors in Minneapolis. Tracy Wong, a local restaurant owner, opened her doors to protestors and press after they’d been tear gasses. She opened her doors saying “Come in. Come in!” and then offered up water and hot tea. Government officials are stepping down and reducing the number of ICE agents in Minnesota. Change may be happening at a snail’s pace, but it is happening.

While good things can happen in the dark, like growing roots, the epicotyl is pushing up in search of the light. Which is kind of like what’s happening with this post. I’m grateful for the rest and good things that happen in the dark cold months of winter, but I am always reaching out for the light.