As winter lingers… and lingers… and lingers on, I find myself hibernating more and more. Curling up with a cup of hot tea and the dogs under a soft warm blanket and being perfectly content to not move. To not engage with the rain and the wind and the cold and the people struggling grumpily through the rain and the wind and the cold.
I know I will emerge like flowers in the spring pushing up through the cold earth to greet the newly warm sun, but it seems like forever away or a dream I once had that there was warmth from the sun.
I’m not even sad, I’m happy. Content. To just stay here where it is warm. And cozy. And dry.
But I will force myself out into the rain and the cold and the wind to once again take pictures, and maybe to make the contrast between that and this hibernation even sharper. Maybe we really do need the harsh to appreciate the comforting?