gloriously off-topic

i know it's only for a short time, but i am so very thankful that winter finally arrived. it seems a peculiar admission, but this is truly my time of year. i have always claimed to be a fan of fall, but though fall may be beautiful its inconsistency of weather is distressing to me. give me beautiful, clean winter, with its dim shining sun and cold bracing breezes, its occasional stillness that allows the crisp cold air just to sit and enliven the body with blood drawn to the skin. give me the rosy cheeks, the warm coats, breath that can be seen and the magnificent design of precipitation that does not fall strongly on heads but rather floats slowly and lands lightly to its rest.

it's the cleanness i think that appeals to me. i adore the smells of fall, the decay and the wetness, the opposite of pregnant spring, leaves and other vegetation fallen to the ground and building again the soil for spring to work its magical rebirth. but, in time, those scents become tiresome, or perhaps simply overwhelming, and i long for winter's clean slate. the air gets cold enough that the smells cannot survive any longer, and one is left with nothing but pure, sweet air, to charge and sting the lungs and bury the soil to hibernate before spring comes and fills the world again with life.

perhaps i was mistaken, then. it is not spring which is pregnant. spring brings the birth. winter is the pregnancy. winter is the wait while all things rest and form. winter is the space between death and rebirth, that time when nature girds itself and builds the weight for the labor that is coming with spring. winter is anticipation and rest all at once. beautiful, chilled, white and full of that which is yet to come. this is where i can find all the beauty and understand it, in the world waiting and preparing, drawing itself together for that great hurrah to come with great green life as winter lets loose its hand and spills out the spring in rivers of exuberant color. but for now, all that energy and vibrancy lies in wait, gathering itself for the work to come.

i adore fall, but i love the winter. this is my time. this is my season.