The winter comes; I walk alone.
I want no birds to sing.
For those who keep their heart their own,
The winter is the spring. --John Clare



I really, really wish I liked the cold, because the gifts of winter are so beautiful to me. If I could stand the frigid temperatures, I'd spend hours on end walking through the enchanted woods and along beaches sprinkled in snow. I love the barren tree branches and the delicate hues that were once Spring's most vibrant, now faded into a glorious time worn treasure.


The beaches of my East coast childhood closed down in winter - all the tourists went home and the chilly shores were left to locals and fishermen. It was lovely -- in theory, in aesthetics and in its loneliness. But in physical comfort - it was miserable. Try as I might - I just cannot make myself be anywhere near the cold.

So instead, I will forever enjoy the chill of winter and the beauty it brings from afar --



From my little piece of heaven that is sunny and mild in the dead winter - outside in my shorts, with my coffee, sitting at a table in the yard. From there I will enjoy the other side of winter and the icy beauty from the pages of books and postcards sent from cold friends and relatives.

There is always the possibility of a happy solution, and in some cases, you can have it all.