I woke remembering my intention to exchange my complaints for appreciation.. That in itself made me happy and I began the day with an easy smile.
The sun was out, a somewhat rare occurrence of late, and the temperature had risen above freezing. It was a perfect day for grabbing some photos. But I’d better go now. The forecast said clouds would be moving in by afternoon.
That’s when I discovered what, precisely, it is that I don’t like about winter. Everybody who knows me at all well has heard my annual statements about the season. I tell them, year after year, that we are part bear and should be hibernating now until the berries are ripe in the spring.
I don’t like being cold, I tell them. But today I realize that it’s not the sharpness of cold against my skin. As long as my body feels warm, I am okay with cold air. Sure, there are extremes to avoid, But you can be exposed to surprisingly cold air without sustaining damage. So it wasn’t the cold that I didn’t like.
I complained (as I am wont to do) about the season’s lack of color. But this year I am reminded how much I appreciate its hues. So I couldn’t blame that either.
I was thinking about this as I pulled on my boots and laced them and tied a double bow so the laces wouldn’t come undone and trip me. I put on the fuzzy hat with the wonderful ear flaps and tied it under my chin. I slid into the puffy winter jacket and zipped it up and snapped the snaps, and then I pulled on my gloves.
“Good grief,” some little voice inside me sighed, sounding impatient. “Can we go now?”
I could only laugh. That was why I didn’t like winter! You had to go through this huge, long ritual before you could go out and play. In summer, you could just run out the door.
I felt like the voice belonged to the five-year-old inside me who was chafing at the bit to get outside. I imagined taking her hand and walking with her to the creek, and showing her how to notice the feel of the air on her face and how the sun slightly warmed it. We listened to the winter birds and to the trees’ bare branches clicking in the gentle wind. Then there was the creek and we carefully climbed down the steep bank to its edges and wondered at its colors and dance and song.
As I peeled off my hat and gloves and jacket and boots when I got back home, I smiled at what I had experienced. That’s what its like when you trade your complaints for appreciation. The joy-beams get through.