Quote of the Week
It is impossible, to me at least, to be poetical in cold weather. George Eliot, in a letter written in 1840, George Eliot's Life as Related in Her Letters and Journals, by J. W. Cross, 1884
We each have our preferred seasons - those times when we feel most creative. I'm a southern girl who has lived most of her life in sub-tropical climes, except for the coldest year I ever spent, living in South Dakota. That was the year I committed to memory The Cremation of Sam Magee by Robert Service. I'm not much of a winter chick. Does winter make me creative, imaginative, and poetical? Not so much.
In Texas, when winter pays a rare visit, I just want to curl up on the couch under an afghan, and read a good book. Fortunately, with the holidays upon us, I'm winding down my writing days so I can enjoy the blustery wind from the warmth of my living room.
Though I don't care for cold weather, I enjoy the rare winter day when the wind blows, the temp hovers around 45, and we're snug and warm inside. My husband watches the game of his choice on TV. I snuggle under the afghan on the couch with my book of choice. Something fragrant simmers on the stove. Today, it's a big pot of homemade chili releasing the aroma of onions, garlic, cumin, and peppers.
Happiness is found in small moments so it's entirely possible to be happy each day.