The winter of my content.....

 
This winter seemed to arrive with guns blazing as if holding a grudge against Autumn, bringing with it killer temperatures and a whole lot of attitude. Except for this short reprieve we are experiencing, its been cold, consistently cold.  Usually this would set a brooding mood for the entire season because saying I've despised winter would be an understatement.  I've hated the cold with a passion.  I've bitched for years the stork dropped me too far north, maybe my head weighed too much to make the flight to Buckingham palace.  If you added up all the whining I do in a year, and prorate it between the seasons, 85% would be owned by winter.  

In previous years I've welcomed winter mornings with the enthusiasm of a pin in the eye, forcing myself out from beneath the warm covers, wishing I could hibernate until spring.   The fire in the wood stove goes out during the night and the temperature  dips, not so much that ice cycles form on the end of nose, but enough to yelp and curl the toes as I dash across the cold floor in search of slippers. 

This year, things have changed.  Not only am I not bitching, I'm feeling an uncharacteristic joy for the season.  Has turning 55, with its senior designation, made me into a tough old bird or is that extra layer of padding I've packed on responsible for the reconditioned  attitude?  I'll admit, with age, the vanity and the foolishness of youth take second seat to the innate desire for comfort so now I wear wool lined boots, gloves, scarves and sensible coats, replacing past attire that served little purpose against the weather.  I no longer shiver like I used to, no longer feel the chill to the very bone.  I no longer complain as I suit up to take the pups outside, or take the garbage to the bin. The morning dash to the car used to be record breaking; the whining and cussing echoing a Sam McGee lament.    

So I wonder what has changed?   Why I’ve grown more resilient?  All the variables of winter have remained constant so it’s reasonable to deduce that something is different about me.  Possibly I’m taking each day less for granted as I soar into the second half of my life. Time has suddenly become precious.  Experiencing the cold means I can feel, proof that I'm alive, and that’s nothing to sneeze at.  Losing my mother when she was only 58 and growing closer to those numbers myself, lends to a sense of vulnerability, humbles the arrogance of infallibility.  Every day I'm here, I'm privileged to experience this gift, so no matter what the conditions are like outside, I'll take it and still my tongue! 

There were times in my life when I didn't care if I died. To me the world wasn’t a warm and fuzzy place,  but now I'm grabbing on to the ledge, holding on for dear life hoping there will be decades ahead of me, filled with wonderful moments that offer me a reason to stay.   They say every cell in the body is regenerated every seven years, so I am a new and improved person than I was a decade ago.  Too bad it wasn't as easy to shed and replace the bad memory cells as well.  It took over a third of my life to get to this good place; it would be a cruel joke to have to pack it in now, just as I’m getting it right. 

Our brief stay on this planet is flawed.  Just as we grow wise and all knowing, our bodies begin to quit on us.  Maybe life should begin in reverse…be young and intelligent, starting out on top of the mountain and then making the steady decline to the bottom.  At the end of the journey there would be no big loss of body and mind to depress over, just a simple fade to black.  In my case, it's unfortunate I had to waste precious time taking detours, having to travel all those extra miles to reach this good place, but I suppose one has to experience the bad to really appreciate the good…without the contrast, life is a rose without its perfume.

Bundled up on the back porch the other morning, watching my babies at their morning pee, my eyes swept over the rolling hills behind the house and the ice laden harbour. Such beauty before me that I never fully appreciated before and I found myself smiling despite the frigid wind on my face. 

A red cardinal flew in to perch at our Sand Cherry tree, a momentary rest on his journey.....a rare and beautiful sight.   He posed for me and minutes passed as I breathed cool air in and steamy breath out, watching him in total awe. I became invigorated, surged with energy from the joy of being.  An urge sparked me to run out and throw myself backward on the snow, make an angel like I did as  a child.  I was suddenly oblivious to the cold, and more alive than I have been for years. I resisted the moment for practical reasons. I was in my jammies, no socks in my boots, all boring, grownup logic,  but now I regret not indulging the child within....maybe when it snows next time, hopefully I get the chance......
 

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