“Nature looks dead in winter because her life is gathered into her heart. She withers the plant down to the root that she may grow it up again fairer and stronger. She calls her family together within her inmost home to prepare them for being scattered abroad upon the face of the earth.”
Hugh Macmillan, “Rejuvenescence,” The Ministry of Nature, 1871
Winter has come and, with it the promise of long winter evenings of reading in the coming cold days of January and February. I have a stack of books at the ready and have signed up to a competitive family book reading challenge that has set me on a course of discovery. Winter is a time of respite and renewal, waiting, preparing…
The soil appears to be dormant, but there is unseen activity happening in the depths of the earth in preparation for the coming of spring. So it is with us. May we “gather our life” in the same way as Nature and recognize the beauty of a winter landscape.
Join me as I look back on the late blooms of Autumn, just before Nature called her family together.
Solitude: A September Garden from Rebecca Budd aka Clanmother on Vimeo.
“I love the dark hours of my being.
My mind deepens into them.
There I can find, as in old letters,
the days of my life, already lived,
and held like a legend, and understood.”
Rainer Maria Rilke
Sunday evenings are complex because we are at an “end” and about to head into a “beginning.” Sundays signal the subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) transition from time based on personal agendas to time structured by others who are depending upon our focused attention and interaction. I think of this as moving from “my time” to “their time.”
Some call it the Sunday Night Blues and many people have felt the sting. I first experienced this when I was in grade school, when I knew that a math test, or even worse, a spelling bee was scheduled for Monday morning. I confess that spelling was never my strong suit.
Over the years, I have created ways in which to embrace a spirit of anticipation for what lay ahead. Sunday evenings have become a time of reflection, a pause, a breathing space. Tomorrow will come, but for tonight, I am here.
Join me on my Sunday Evening Reflection.
Ocean Reflection from Rebecca Budd aka Clanmother on Vimeo.