WHAT'S YOUR SIMPLE WINTER THING?

I buy The Simple Things  at my local Barnes and Noble.  Or you can visit www.icebergpress.co.uk. It's a lovely magazine for UK aficionados like myself. I've mentioned before that people write in what their "Simple Thing" is.  Ordinary things like "cold toast with a thick slathering of butter."  Nothing's more British than cold toast (or the word "slathering").  Brits even use a cooling rack to make sure not one bit of warmth is left after toasting.  Perverse, isn't it?  Our simple thing corollary might be "A fried egg on hot buttered toast."  Yes, much more American.   

Winter is such a wonderful time.  When it's not too frigid outside, a lovely simple thing is the outdoor fire pit and a woolly blanket as darkness falls.  Or if the temperature is colder, like it is today, then a crackling fire indoors is the best simple winter thing.  Of course, not everyone wants or has a fireplace.  Candles and fairy lights are good too.  Then watching a movie with the kids or maybe even better, watching something that only we want to see.  My Netflix list is long.  

Remember when Dumbledore said, "One can never have enough socks.  Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair.  People will insist on giving me books." (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone)  New socks are a simple winter thing. Or old favorites. Last year I got a pair in my Christmas stocking, and sent out a bunch.  My sweet New Jersey nieces said, "Some people think they are corny but we like them," then sent me this fuzzy polka dot pair by return mail: 

Still, books may be the best winter simple thing. Transporting us to another age or country or emotional state.  Challenging us, absorbing us, every sentence a pause, leading us to thoughts we may never have had before.  Reading the classics does this, Bronte, Dickens, Salinger, Flaubert, Kate Chopin. . . .  Just choosing one to read or reread will transform the whole winter on its own.  Our book club chose The Awakening (1899) set in New Orleans where Chopin's heroine struggles against turn-of-the-century attitudes about femininity and motherhood.  I can't forget that book. 

Of course we can combine a plethora of simple winter things into a glorious day or afternoon or evening--cozy socks, candles lit, with our book, under a woolly throw, tea and hot buttered toast at our side, dog at our feet. . . . Or playing a game with the family in front of the fire while supper simmers. 

What are your simple winter things?   Outdoors or in?  Active or sedentary?  Planned or spontaneous?  Relaxing or invigorating?  There's not a bad choice, is there?  It's a wonderful season!

THE NO-GUILT SEASON

Wishing for Snow

We're in the no-guilt season and I love it.  January is our time to slow down.  We can't hibernate in December.  There's too much to do, too much between Thanksgiving and New Year's.  But not now.  Year-end work rush is over.  The children's excitement has peaked and settled.  Family is gone, guest rooms empty.  Calendars have cleared.  Gardens don't need us.

Fridges have space and we start fresh with simple winter comfort food, stews and soups, roast meats and vegetables.  We're wearing our new sweaters, not shopping for them.  There's nothing to buy or decorate or plan or get ready for.  It is pure and simply time to find what comforts we can and reset.  We can slow life down a little without any guilt.  We can go to bed early.  Oh my.

Where I am it is 5:30 and dark.  The geese have passed overhead and are quiet.  The deer are still grazing about but will bed under the cedars shortly.  The bobcat a relative spied at dusk a day or so ago may still be on patrol, but then so are the coyotes.  We might hear some noise later from those predators.  In all, it's a chilly perfect mid-winter evening. 

What can we do during this less-hectic time?  There's so much.  We can go for bundled-up walks in nature.  My husband and I took one yesterday, January 1st, a day off.  We can start our winter routine, the most un-fancy dinners we can think of, meatloaf and jacket potatoes, or waffles, or cabbage soup.  Early baths or showers, a little reading or journaling, TV or podcast and bedtimes for everyone.

Winter has such charm with little effort, don't you think?  Birds at the feeder.  Bare, sculptural branches, winter berries, brighter stars, air with a freshness you don't find in any other season.  Even the train whistle is clearer as it fades.  People leave work earlier too, if they can.  Schools close for snow and everything stops.

At home, too.  Blankets and throws about, clusters of candles (we have a Scrap Exchange where you can buy fistfuls of used candles for 5¢ each), warm drinks, old flannels and knitwear, cozy socks.  I read more in winter than any other time of year.  Someone said that reading is to the mind what exercise is to the body, and that seems right.  We drink hot chocolate before bed, too, a treat saved  just for this season.  

It's good for our children to see us slow down, to have time for real conversations, so when they are adults they will know how to slow down too.  They see us make a living.  They can see us make a life.  A slower pace helps us care for our souls and theirs.  

We need our winter pause.  We need a month that doesn't rush, but lingers. That month is here.   

                        In peace, Nina Naomi