Gift #1116: January Thoughts

Hello everyone!  It hasn’t been a stellar start to the new year in terms of blogging.  I had visions of suddenly being more energetic, having brilliant things to say, and blogging every day.  Instead I’ve been sick, stressed, utterly exhausted, and my laptop died.  I’m still waiting for it’s replacement to ship.  Blogging on my ipad is difficult and I haven’t had the energy to deal with it.  And then, what would I say?  My thoughts are scattered and not very coherent.  I hope I’ll be filled with meaningful experiences and encouragement to share throughout the year, but in the meantime I can give you a brief snapshot into my thoughts this week.

I usually have a hard time with winter – about the third week in January I’m going stir-crazy and am desperate for green things and sunshine.   Last year I was pleasantly surprised with how smoothly I sailed through winter – barely a discontented thought.  “Maybe I’m over these winter doldrums” I told myself.  Ha!  January 6th, it slammed into me like a ton of bricks – I’m done with winter. I can’t stand it anymore and I need green things growing out of the ground.  Now!!!  Thoughts sounding like passages from Lord of the Rings are filling my head:  ” The shadow darkens and spreads throughout the land;  the sun cannot pierce it;  all shall disappear into the darkness; the sun shall fail and all will come to naught”.  Yeah, it’s bad and I must take action.

The first defense was put in place a few weeks ago.  I got an email newsletter from a favorite online designer that she was hosting a sock knit-a-long where we get 6 patterns, one released every other month, and the focus is on all the wonderful things I love.  Here’s the description that greeted my winter-weary eyes:

A bit of earth. A little patch of garden. A place where you can take root and
feel a blossoming kinship with little growing things. Bulbs and seeds, ladybirds
and dandelion clocks, sprouting mushrooms and fallen leaves, the secret
world of the very small and very beautiful. The first season of The Handmade
Sock Society delves into the rich life of the earth beneath our feet.

Now, I’m not usually taken in by advertising, but this completely had me in its thrall as I read those magical words and took in those sketched weeds.  These thoughts raced through my brain ” Brilliant!  If I buy these patterns, spring will come.”   And here I am, fully convinced that as soon as that first pattern hits my email in February,  I will find the perfect yarn in my stash (something soft mossy green with hints of violet pansies and sunshine), I’ll cast-on, and then a choir of angels will announce that spring has arrived.  As soon as I put those magical stitches on my needles, grass will sprout, flowers bud, ladybugs buzz around me, and moss will carpet the ground.   I have the slightest nagging doubt that I may be expecting a bit too much out of the sock pattern. If I listen to the suspicions, it will also tell me that I don’t really know how to knit socks and I find knitting small objects in the round to be frustrating.   I’m not paying attention to those thoughts.  Something has to get spring here and if these socks offer that promise, I’m taking it.

I’m not taking any chances though – I need something more concrete than my knitting to assure me winter will not last forever.  And that came in the mailbox this week.

The IMA (Indianapolis Museum of Art) publication arrived and there on the bottom edge were two words I’ve hoped and dreamed of for months : Colorful Orchids.  I clutched the  magazine to my heart and literally started crying.  I wasn’t even for sure they’d have orchids this year because I couldn’t find anything on their website, but they’re coming!!!  You’ll remember that it was last year at their exhibit that I learned to truly love these flowers.  I’ve spent a good part of this year reading about them and looking forward to greeting them again.  They’ll be here Feb. 17th!!!  In just about a month they will be here in all their beautiful, magnificent floral glory.  And their coming is a sure sign that spring is on the way.  Once that exhibit gets installed, it’s all a countdown for spring.  Knowing they’re on the way gave me such hope.  Winter can do it’s worst, but spring is coming.  This is a metaphor for my personal life as well.  It can feel dark and depressing, but the sun is coming and new life is a promise.  To this I will cling.

 

Blessings to you,

Sarah