Our small clan has been more than surviving this season. With the help of copious time outdoors, this winter has been more tolerable than any I’ve experienced. Warm clothes. I became a mother and discovered how to dress weather-appropriately. I have a hunch that this is a phenomenon amongst others as well. So we bundle, we brew a warm drink, we pile Oren under blankets and hats and we set off into the world.
Only once in recent memory have I semi-regretted setting out for a long stroll. It was a windy day, and our walk away from home was easy enough. On our return, the wind whipped at Oren’s stroller and I clutched a blanket over his sleep-cocoon. Throw into the mix a walk over a river on a busy bridge. At times I had to lean into the stroller with all of my weight. Cars zooming on the other side of a short partition. Frozen water below. Dizzying.
This walk however, was through the park, on a day warm enough to be labeled pre-spring. I’m inflated with hope just reminiscing.
In braving the cold we’ve encountered: three bald eagles, a new palette of color (juniper-lichen? yes please), the intoxicating drift of wood smoke, the creaking banter of trees, the prospects of our futures, a very fluffy hawk ten feet away, so many geese, sloshy dogs, and other red-cheeked folk glad to be outdoors. I am learning to like this season.
Inside we rush, to brew some tea. We sit down together to warm over mugs. Oren loves to clink mugs together, “Cheers!”. He celebrates so constantly that he is alive. He is happy to be doing what we are doing: a chilly walk, a sharing of tea, or spending days indoors as the arctic beats us with it’s piercing cold.
I can’t wait until we walk in the warm.