I like the bare simplicity
of winter.
Yes, we doll it up,
in ribbons
and garlands
and lambaste it
with lights,
but ever notice how,
after the celebrations are over,
all that
“stuff”
it just looks
gaudy, cluttered
and tired?

It’s so easy to get tired.

 

I think it’s this search for perfect
that tires us out,
that clutters our homes
and minds
and schedules.

Then there is nature.
Pure,
cold,
Canadian
nature.

 

The spruce are padded
with a thick layer
of fresh snow
and my view
looks like
a Christmas card
minus the red and green trim.

That flash
of unexpected sky-blue
against the white
means the chubby blue-jay
is foraging again.
My snow-capped birdfeeders
are spinning manically
because of a consistent onslaught
of peppery sparrows,
who can never get enough.

The jack rabbit
is all white now,
and zips about,
his big feet
so happy
in the big snow.

I know it’s helpful,
this season of lights
and parties,
cause it brightens
the darkest month
in our calendar
cause we can’t hibernate,
or tuck away early,
or not despise the dark
like nature can.

But there is something about
this simple
pre-Christmas time,
after the first few snowfalls,
which make you feel
cozy and rosy cheeked,
and thankful for wool
and hot drinks and
all the white,
which reflects
the moonlight
bright
on clear nights.
And the children,
reveling
in a snow globe world.
I like this simple winter.
Before we try to improve it
with our perfection driven tendencies,
our deep devotion to Pinterest
and keeping up with the Jones’.

Welcome, simple Winter.
I accept you
and love you
as you are,
pure,
cold,
charming,
simple,
bare,
full,
imperfect,
beautiful.