How I love January.
I love it all, from the clean, frigid air, to the chance for fresh starts, to the soft blues and grays of the winter landscape.
I love bare trees, branches exposed, naked arms twisting, turning, reaching for light.
I love the chance for snow, and giggles when it flurries, and the crunch underfoot, and red noses and mittens and wet dripping boots.
I love the sparkling icicles that hang from big rocks and house eaves.
I love firewood stacked, and big stone hearths, and the dance of fire, full burn.
And I love that smell. Oh I love the smoke of the winter fire smell.
I love thick books and warm fuzzy socks and good healthy pours of red wine.
I love hot soup–bubbling on the stove, steaming in a mug, dipped from a bowl with a big giant spoon.
Flannel sheets, extra blankets, snuggly pajamas.
Down coats, fur hoods, thick knitted scarves.
Fat winter birds.
And I love the quiet. Of all the deep joy this civilized month brings, it is the quiet I cherish the most. It settles my soul, calms my heart, brings me back to me.
I love January.
30 Days of Joy
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