See anything new???

A new year is a good time for change. And a good time for a re-design, whether with your life, or with your blog. I’ve been swerving back and forth over the past year on what the focus of this blog really is, and it’s pretty clear that it’s been changing a lot. It’s gone from strictly recipe focused to opening the door, just a glimpse, in to what goes on in my head, my heart and my life. So it’s really not a food blog any longer. But yet, it still is.

My on-line friend Lisa posted something today that blew me backwards a bit. And when I righted myself, and read it again and again, it sank it’s teeth in to me and held tight. She’s gotten so far away from where her blog had originated that she contemplated shutting it down. {{and haven’t we ALL been there, at least once or twice??}} But then a friend of hers said “This space has become more of a savings account for things you like, rather than purely recipes as it was.”

Well, that’s what blew me backwards because it was exactly what my mind was trying to find in regards to this space of mine. So, in addition to a new, fresh and modern look, with some more muted color schemes, I also changed the tagline of the blog. See it over there on the upper right side? It used to say ‘the evocative fare and delicious stories of a passionate cook’.

Now it just says what this treasured space of mine has become: a blog of food and life. Because when it comes down to it, there is no life without good food. And there is no good food without a richly varied life.

I’ll be updating the Recipe Index a bit more too, but to start, I wiped it clean of really old posts, with recipes that are no longer relevant, and photos that made me cringe. If you go searching my site for a recipe, I want it to be the best one I can offer as that’s the least I can do. And if you ever come across a dead link, please let me know and I’ll set it right again.

We’ve also got icons for my Facebook page if you wish to keep updated on my posts that way, and another one so you can come and hang out with me on Twitter.

Ready for another spectacular year?? I am!!

My routine every morning is pretty much the same; awaken to the sounds of my husband coming in the room and placing a steaming cup of coffee at my bedside, dropping a kiss to me, then putting up the shade before exiting. Sometimes a cat curls up next to me, paws kneading the quilt, purring hard and fast, and as my mind becomes clearer and I sip at my cup, I reach for my glasses and suddenly the world springs to life.

Since I was six, my day can’t start without placing glasses on my face. The wedge dug deep into bone on the bridge of my nose attests to a lifetime of pressure, as the prescription gets worse and the glasses become thicker. I can’t see more than half a foot in front of me without them, but without clear sight, I’ve gained other senses in compensation. Like the ability to smell far too many things that others can’t detect, or such delicate hearing that any noise in the night, even a cat sighing in contentment at my feet can waken me. Taste is sharper, touch is sensitive but knock off my glasses and I’m helpless.

Most of the time, I never think about it. Glasses are all right, even chic and fashionable. The lenses are designed to be less thick, more invisible and the styles are beautiful. And when I remove them, and gaze around me, a world opens up that only the sightless can know; shapes are undefined, colors bleed in to one another and the world hovers, dream-like and ethereal.Those with perfect vision can’t know the beauty that bursts forth in my mind when I take off my glasses.

I’ve tried though; tried to describe to someone what I see when I don’t see. But I get a puzzled look, and a smile that says they can’t possibly know. But I want them to know, that even half blind I might see better than those with 20/20. If your eyes were closed and I dropped a handful of cotton balls to your palm, would you ‘feel’ the color white?  If a searing hot pan touches your skin, do you think the color red? Do ice cubes make you understand what blue really is? This sight that’s blurred at the edges, hanging in suspension,  it’s like a secret only those of us with gouges on the bridge of our nose can understand.

The lights are my favorite thing, sans glasses. And when my face is bare, they become like colored fuzzy blobs floating around, with no anchor or connection. If I squint a bit, they dance and shimmy. Christmas lights are the best; an explosion of colors and magical shapes that evade even the wildest of descriptions. And I could never make sense of it to anyone.

But then I found this……

This….. it almost brings me to tears. Because for all these years, in trying to explain what I see, the magic in staring at tiny spectral lights that are blurred, unfocused and seemingly floating in thin air, this photo captures it all. Perfectly. I could spend hours gazing at blobby hazy lights and I never get tired of it. Like my teeth, or my ears or my hair, it’s part of who I am. This lack of good eyesight, the lifetime of fuzzy images…. it’s not a disability. Not to me. I can remove my glasses and the rest of the world slips away, and sometimes this is not a bad thing. This is my world, my life.

Because when the world is out of focus to some, it’s breathtaking in it’s clarity to someone else. I don’t need to see clearly what I know is really there; it’s perfect, just exactly as I see it. And this photo? This is enthralling, pure magic. Kind of like Christmas itself.

And now, thanks to Grace, from the website ‘Habit…. a collection of days‘, I can share this clarity with others.

 It’s Just Write Tuesdays. Stop over at The Extraordinary Ordinary for our 14th week.

I’m most frantic with trying to handle all the red-hot details of so very much these days. And I’m no different than anyone else who makes an extensive list that helps organize and pull it all together. The process of extracting it from my brain into line by line visuals takes it from a jumbled mess in my head to categorized chaos on paper, and sometimes it helps pull it all together. Sometimes.

And then, inevitably, I just make more in my head and it starts all over again. Or the list is paralyzing in it’s length, or breadth and it causes me to stare, incomprehensibly at what I think I should do.

Then I lay there this morning, much as I do every day, thinking about the hours ahead and the things I want to do, and a thought struck me so profound and immense that I sat up, quickly, and reached for my phone. Because in this season of ‘To Do’ and ‘To Decorate’ and ‘To Bake’ and ‘To Cook’ and all the other ‘To Do’s we force ourselves to create, I started to think of the ‘To Don’t’ items, the ones that I wish to shut the door on, both this season, and all to come.

They might be something like this:

~~Don’t fall in to the hype of a commercialized Christmas.
~~Don’t get caught up in piteous little daily things and ignore your coffee when it’s hot.
~~Remember, every single day, why we celebrate Christmas. The real reason.
~~Don’t buy anything that you don’t think you will use for 12 months a year.
~~Don’t bake anything you don’t like.
~~Don’t say ‘Yes’ unless you absolutely can.
~~Don’t forget about you, your son and your husband.
~~Don’t wait to decorate if it’s what you want right now.
~~Don’t think you have to be there when the perfect tree is found. They can do it too.
~~Don’t pass by that beautiful light display, glancing at it out of the corner of your eye. Stop the car. And really LOOK.
~~Don’t think you can’t go for a walk when it’s cold; bundle up and suck it up.
~~Don’t forget your camera, regardless.
~~Don’t ever forget where you came from, ever, when you start thinking you don’t have enough.
~~Don’t forget that when you gather, it’s about the company and community and not about the food,
the treats or anything else.

And oh my word, could I fill these pages with my ‘To Don’t's. Because, really,  this list is never-ending. And it doesn’t just apply to Christmas time, with all it’s frantic rushing and shoving through my days, exhaustively pressing pencil to paper in an attempt to slow it all down and control it. I have the same 24 hours as anyone on the planet. And no memories are made when I’m racing around in a panic, trying to fit it all in. And in among the massive endless ‘To Do” tasks that we think we have to accomplish, something will inevitably get lost, those moments forgotten in a mad rush or ‘this’ thing, or ‘that’ thing. And what are you willing to forget, to let go and push aside because some list of stupid tasks is more important?

All we’ve ever done, since list-making was created was make our ‘To Do’ lists, scratching out what we think is some semblance of order. For a dramatic change in perspective, I encourage you to write your own ‘To Don’t’ list.

What would be on it for Christmas this year?

We had our first snowfall of the season yesterday. It wasn’t much, really, just an inch or two, but there was an hour or so in the afternoon where the snow fell hard and the wind blew heavy and it LOOKED much worse than it was, and Minnesotans, even though they are a hearty bunch yew betcha, well, there was a lot of griping and sniping and exclamations of “I don’t have a snowbrush in my car!!” {{ahem…. that might have been from me…. cough cough}}

But in the end, it was just an inch or two. Certainly NOT this again.

This was last year’s incredible 24″ blizzard from about mid-December. Gorgeous and shockingly beautiful {{mostly because I enjoyed it from the comfort of my home}} and the impetus to usher in a Winter that saw more snow, more hassles and more headaches than we anticipated. Now that I am working, and got my first taste of commuting home in a snowfall, I’m not so eager to deal with an epic snowstorm, but I know, inevitably that the day will come where I am at work and the white stuff is coming thick and fast. And the only thing standing between me and the warmth of home is Audi’s legendary all-wheel drive, nerves of steel and a deep well of patience.

Oh the joys……

What’s on YOUR plate this month???

I look around the table at the women gathered there and I’m caught, just a bit, by the warmth and authenticity sitting with me. I feel blessed, and caught up in the moment of our conversations, of life and marriage, parenting and food and everything in between.

It’s chilly, and clear, but the wind is gusting hard against the old patio doors, making them rattle and throb in the gale. It is October, after all, and no one came here expecting to sunbathe and swim. We knew we’d find bare trees and dry brown grass, and everyone brought slippers or warm socks. Several people came with thick blankets to help ward off the chill of an October night.

But at this moment, no one is thinking about the cold hard wind outside. Because when you gather eight women who are all passionate about food, amazing things happen and we lay it out before us, gazing at the repast with gleaming eyes, exclaiming over the sight. We pour wine in to glass jars and pull up our chairs. Fragrant soup simmers and there is never a break in the conversation as we segue from one topic to the next, easily, like we’ve done this all our lives. Several of us have only met, just today and the moment the cabin door opened and the laughter swept in from the yard. But we know each other, as old friends, regardless of how much face time we’ve had. It’s inherent, this tribe. We have a bond and we just know, in our hearts that we belong here.

Outside the cold bright day turns to a brisk and clear night. There is warmth inside those rattling glass doors that the chilly Autumn night can’t chase away. We sit over homemade salsa and tortilla chips, freshly made bacon jam with crackers and toasted bread, deeply flavored roasted nuts. The promise of warm soup hangs in the air, and there is more bread, delicious and healthy salads and the conversation that feeds us, on and on, an endless succession of nurturing topics, filled with appetizing laughter.

There is more wine poured, glass jars clink on the table and plates come out. Bowls are set near the stove and a ladle dipped in to the pot, drawing forth a steaming amount to smell, while quiet smiles play across faces rich with anticipation. There is no one in this room who isn’t wholly in love with food, passionate about it in every way; who loves to feed others, who lives to share the bounty. They are kindred, these women, these beings that I love. There is a depth to the emotion that runs further than I could have imagined. Food sustains them, and they sustain others with it, through emotions, and heart songs and old glass jars. Through fragrant bread studded with herbs, through kicky salsa that dances on your tongue. Beyond the crackers, and the tortilla chips, there isn’t a processed item in sight. We love our food in exactly the way it should be; freshly and lovingly made.

The darkness outside is impenetrable now, and the dishes are cleared and washed. We slowly move to the sofa, the comfy chairs. Blankets are drawn over full tummies, feet pulled up and tucked under for warmth and yet the conversation never stops. No topic is exhausted or drained from our lips. Now there is dessert, and coffee to give us a brisk resurgence, but soon the home brewed beer is brought out and we taste, slowly sipping, loving the results. It’s close to midnight before we admit defeat and stumble sleepily, happily and with stuffed tummies and hearts, in to our beds.

The morning is more clear sunshine and sustained winds, a humming furnace and sleepy smiles. “I slept like a rock.” resounds from every mouth that appears, eyes relaxed and dreamy, arms wrapped tight in a cocoon of contentment. The coffee pot bubbles and we slip easily into conversation, watching out the windows to a morning rising bright and clear over the lake outside. Breakfast, again, is a dizzy array of fresh baked quick breads, creamy scrambled eggs dredged through with colorful vegetables, the ripest and juiciest pears and apples plucked fresh from the trees only days ago. We’re quieter, more relaxed. We smile and need no reason. We just are; in the moment, right here with our tribe, right where we need to be.

With a sigh, we rise and clean and organize and pack and hug and hug and hug again and laugh and wander across the crunchy leaves to the waiting cars, calling out, again, a goodbye, a thank you, smiles so wide that it seems to split our faces right in two. I close the door against the battering winds and face the empty cabin, the incredible array of foods they’ve left for me to enjoy. My heart is full, the song played out with a few last fading notes to a silence that feels rich, yet forlorn.

They’ll be back again. This much I know.

Please visit —–> The Extraordinary Ordinary
It’s Week Six of Just Write Tuesdays.

Happy 9th Anniversary to the love of my life. I’d marry you all over again, in a heartbeat.

July is segueing into August, bringing the dog days of Summer. It’s been a scorcher, but this is such summertime, hot, sultry weather that we can only dream about in January. Heat shimmers on roads, whistles through trees and sears down on our heads and shoulders. Night time should bring some relief, but many nights have passed that the heat remains unrelenting. Morning has no cool hours to enjoy. It’s summer. As it should be.

We yearned for this back in June. On June 23rd I recall wearing slippers on my feet because it was so chilly. There was a lot of complaining, a lot of griping, plenty of pleas for sun and heat. Then it came. And of course, we had more to gripe about. But for me, I love the heat. I can even appreciate the humidity, because it creates curls in my hair that I don’t get otherwise.

And the heat/humidity combination has made my garden thrive. Along with regular rainstorms (monsoons, really…the rain has been copious) I have seen phenomenal growth in the tomato and pepper plants, and they are loaded with buds and fruit. I am almost drooling at the sight of it all. The herbs have flourished, including some volunteer oregano that came up from last year’s seed. I went out one day to snip some of the herbs for dinner and was THRILLED to spy this on the parsley:

That’s a Black Swallowtail caterpillar and my initial inspection revealed four of these on my plant. This is what the butterfly itself looks like.

I was really excited to find these caterpillar, and will happily offer my parsley to them for food. According to the information I found on the species, this particular caterpillar spins it’s cocoon and then overwinters inside it, hatching in the Spring. I’ll have to watch for these guys to make their transformation, then likely I will bring them inside to insure the survival over the winter. It will be fun to watch them, should we manage to keep them viable until Spring. The year Griffin was five we had a Monarch chrysalis that we found, and it was such an amazing thing to be able to watch it change and then see the butterfly emerge. One year at our lake home we had an abundance of chrysalis that we found on our lakeshore plantings. What a miraculous thing it is to see.

Once I discovered the caterpillar, I placed a piece of screen over the plant to keep them safe from birds. Within a day, I could only see the three largest caterpillar; the smallest one is either hiding really well or has disappeared. They’re eating and moving around the parsley, and one evening as I watered the garden, I got the hose a bit too close to the plant and sprayed them good. Bending down to inspect them, I noticed one of the caterpillar lifted it’s hind end off the stem and shook off a drop of water. What a funny thing to see. Of course that evening there was a torrential downpour, and I found myself worrying about them out in the garden. Silly, I know. But three gorgeous Butterflies will roam the earth if I can successfully keep these caterpillar alive. That’s worth worrying about, I say.

The hot weather hasn’t given me much motivation in terms of big cooking projects. I’ve been loading up on goodies from the markets, bags upon bags of produce to keep on hand and fill our bellies, but with the intense heat, our appetites have been lower than normal, and sometimes a big salad and a hearty slice of bread is all we can manage to dish up for dinner. I’ve been happily filling pots of bubbling polenta with fresh herbs and corn kernels, sighing my way through a bowl of that when I have the wherewithal to stand at the stove for a half hour. Mostly we’re just enjoying ourselves, with some much needed adult time for Mike and I as Griffin has been spending a lot of overnights with his friends. It’s been lovely for us. Just lovely.

What have you been doing for this hot, hot July???

ONE YEAR AGO…..
2010- I was working like crazy at a local golf club, and picking Blueberries in the Summer Rain(find a recipe for Blueberry Syrup in this post!!)

TWO YEARS AGO…..
2009- It was all about raspberries; come and take a walk with me on a country road lined with wild raspberry bushes.

Every once in a while, exciting new things sprout up around my kitchen; fun events that I’m participating in that I think you would find interesting. Most of these fun events have arrived via my relationship with The Motherhood, which began last November and has proven to be a win-win for both of us.

The first event happens this Wednesday. And it’s all about breakfast.

Once again, I’m co-hosting a virtual chat on The Motherhood, and we’re going to talk all things breakfast, most importantly- what’s the best meal options to start your day? Did you know that the USDA nutritional guidelines have changed once again? They have. There’ll be some talk about nutrition too.

Here’s the details:

What: You’re invited to a Kellogg virtual breakfast to discuss morning nutrition and the recently released 2010 Dietary Guidelines.

When: The virtual breakfast is happening on Wednesday, April 20, at 11 a.m. ET.

Where: In TheMotherhood – http://themotherhood.com/talk/show/id/62187

Who: Join Sarah Woodside, registered dietitian for Kellogg, and Liz Ward, registered dietitian, author and one of the Kellogg’s Breakfast Council members, to discuss the nutrients a good breakfast should provide, options for healthy breakfasts on the go, recent research findings on nutrition, and more.  Sarah and Liz will speak to us via live streaming video, while we chat and ask questions through a real-time, text-based conversation.

And if that isn’t enough……

Do you know this coming Friday, April 22nd is Earth Day? It is, once again. And through The Motherhood, I’ve agreed to be a state representative for Minnesota, taking my own measures to Be Kind to the Earth, on Friday, and every day.

I’m a huge advocate of reusable shopping bags, and carry a big stash in my car. During the growing season in Minnesota, I put all my compostable kitchen waste on our garden, digging it right into the soil and often getting lots of volunteer plants coming up from the seeds. Our garden and yard is all organic (much to our neighbors chagrin!) We recycle, of course, and we have a yard waste bin that our trash haulers collect each week from April to November. We just replaced our washer and dryer with more environmentally friendly options, including a water sensor on the washer that only fills it according to the amount of clothes you place in the tub. I’ve eliminated paper napkins in our house by using cotton washable napkins, and old worn out towels get re-purposed for garage and cleaning. Last year I swapped out all my personal care products for natural, eco-friendly options without sulfates, petrochemicals or pthalates. This year, the cleaning products are on my hit list.

What are your best eco-friendly habits? Will you join in and make your own pledge to care for the Earth?

What goes best with peanut butter? Or maybe the question should be rephrased…..

What doesn’t go with peanut butter? And please, include your combinations.

Because this is all about the most ubiquitous spread available, the one that gleans passionate outbursts from even the most stoic souls, a food that fuels both bodies and debates -chunky or creamy, and which brand?- and even scorn, although I’ve only met a few people who turn up their noses at smoothly ground peanuts.

I love smooth and creamy peanut butter, always have. I won’t pass by a jar of good chunky PB, and if it’s all that’s available then I’ll take one for the team. I’m not picky about texture too much. But I’ve found that I can’t go more than a day and a half without consuming peanut butter. At all. I panic when the jar runs low in our house, or if we don’t have the right brand at our lake home in the summer. And I’m specifically loyal about my PB to a toddler tantrum, foot stamping fault; it’s got to be natural peanut butter. Hands down. All that ‘Take one for the team’ talk about eating chunky if I have to? It doesn’t apply to commercial peanut butter that tastes like thick brown paste. I grew up eating natural peanut butter and mourn the loss of Real brand PB from the stores. Thank goodness Parker Farms is a perfectly good option because the more well-known varieties (and I won’t name names; y’all know what types I’m talking about) will never grace my kitchen nor pass my lips.

Over the course of my lifetime, I’ve paired a lot of other foods with peanut butter. Out of curiosity, for the most part, and sometimes out of boredom and even necessity. Peanut butter is perfect poor-man’s food, like only a college kid can be. And when perusing your empty fridge late at night, your body in need of something substantial to carry you to morning, peanut butter becomes your go-to food, and in order to make that snack stick, sometimes you end up getting a little creative. And over the years, I’ve dabbled with a lot of interesting and varied combinations.

~~PB and a fried egg. On toast. It’s not bad. And for many years in college it was a staple for breakfast. These days, however, not so much.

~~PB and bacon. Oh yes. Crisp crackling pork, creamy PB that melts on your warm toasted bread. This is killer good, and even my Teen fell hard for it. However, due to it’s not so stellar nutritional outcome, it’s a rare treat these days.

~~PB and tuna. Ugh. Skip it. Trust me.

~~ PB and grated apple. Perfect, as we all know that dunking a thick slice of crunchy apple into peanut butter is almost a religious experience. Grate that apple, squeeze out the liquid and spread it on your toast. Add a shake of cinnamon if you dare. Divine. You might hear angels singing.

~~PB and crushed potato chips, or a Chip Butty, according to Susan’s Encyclopedia of Sandwiches. If you didn’t do this as a kid, raise your hand. I’d like to know you, and then maybe convince you of what you’re missing. Better yet, crush Doritos on your PB. Eeeek. Did I just say that?

~~PB and bananas. Oh Elvis, you really were on to something, weren’t you? I love PB toast, topped with sliced bananas and a shake of cinnamon sugar.

~~PB and Nutella. Although I can easily see that this would be swoon worthy, not being on the Nutella bandwagon leaves me in the dark. I’m sure it’s amazing though. Anyone can attest to this?

~~PB and jelly. What’s your pleasure? Grape jelly? Strawberry? I kind of like both, but lately, it’s got to be blueberry preserves in my PB&J.

~~PB and honey. Even better…. this combination is far and away my absolute favorite. Especially when the honey soaks into the bread and the edges get a little crunchy. Oh my, there go the singing angels again.

~~PB and green olives. I have my Mom to thank for this one. Ever since I was a kid, and she handed me a PB sandwich stuffed with split green olives (sans the pimento) I have been hooked on this oddity. Nowadays, I scoop up a container of Sicilian olives from the gourmet olive bar at the grocers, speckled with mustard seeds and mouth puckering with a tangy vinaigrette. These massive meaty green olives snap against the salty smooth taste of the peanut butter, creating an odd flavor combination that is wildly addicting. If you’ve got an adventurous palate, try it out. But I warned you.

~~PB and mayo. Tried it once and it made the hair on my neck stand up. I tossed the remaining sandwich in the trash and promptly brushed my teeth. Some things just aren’t meant to marry. But PB and cream cheese? Oh my……

But then there’s those items that have been smeared with peanut butter as just a random means to enjoy my favorite spread; banana bread and tea breads of every style and flavor, pancakes, celery sticks (without the raisins- blergh) pretzels, marshmallows, coffee cakes, muffins of all kinds, scones, my most favorite butternut squash biscuits, grapes, strawberries, melon…. and likely more than I can remember. There really isn’t much that I won’t pair with PB, even if just to try out something new.

So tell me…. what’s your favorite way to enjoy peanut butter? Do you like creamy? Crunchy? Which brand do you buy? Are you loyal to that brand? And why do you like it?

When I wrote this post, which was last week, it had just snowed a gorgeous fluffy three or four inches, the temperatures were decent for a February day and it was lovely, really. But today, when this post goes live, the weather has sunk once again into a deep, bone chilling cold, so I do realize that asking a Minnesotan to embrace winter is quite a stretch. Still, I’m posting this because when it was actually occurring with me, it was really beautiful, and it’s worth sharing even if today is merciless and cold. Also, the photos are not in black and white. It was just the light that day, low and monochromatic and beautiful in it’s own soft, gray way.

There are plenty of those in Minnesota who, right about now I realize, are really, really tired of winter. We’ve had a lot of snow, most certainly, and it causes quite a few headaches, especially if you commute to your work. I’ve been fortunate that being out driving in it hasn’t been necessary for me during the worst of the storms. I can sit home, warm and snug and the only hassle I need to deal with is getting the newest snowfall amounts off the driveway, up and over the six-foot high snowbanks lining the sides. It’s Mother Nature’s workout at it’s finest.

And I’m a cross-country skier, so naturally the more snow, and the more frequently it snows, the better the skiing conditions will be. After our most recent several inches of fluff fell, I slid my skis in my car on a quiet Monday morning and headed over to the regional park near our house where a perfect 3K trail is carved through woods and wide open areas. When I arrived, there was a snow-shoeing class going on, with young children and their parents. I locked my boots into my skis and slid off on the trail. Pretty soon, the rest of the world fell away and it was just me, the sheer glaring white of a fresh snowfall and an empty park. The weather was perfect, and with each stride I felt like I was propelling myself further away from the clenched teeth feel of everyday life and into some place where I could breathe deep, let go and just be.

Sometimes when I ski, the rhythm of the stride, the movements of my shoulders and my very breath all seem like they’re fighting one another to co-exist. It’s a struggle to sweep myself along the trail; I feel clumsy and breathless, like I just can’t make my body work the way it needs to. On other days, within the first 5 minutes, my body slips into the familiar patterns it’s known since I was a young girl, and every muscle, breath and reach feels like the well-oiled machine that it is. On this snowy and silent Monday, I had one of those perfect days where it all fit. And with the trail to myself, I stretched, flew, slowed, stopped and breathed in the clear cold goodness of a winter day.

At one point in the trail, both sides are closely guarded by long stands of large pine trees, with sweeping boughs of green. They line the path like sentries, watching as you pass. I like to stop on this part, to look around under the trees as it’s a good place for wildlife to lurk as the tree cover tends to prevent the snowfall accumulation on the ground underneath. Sometimes there are deer in those trees, silently watching me; one time I was blessed to see a bright red fox for one good look before he leapt off, thick tail flashing wildly. This morning, I glimpsed a quiet rabbit, ears placed against it’s back under one majestic pine, and I stopped to catch my breath and watch. It was nibbling on something, paying little attention to me. I was struck with how content it looked, sitting there in a thick fur coat, like this snowy day was just another part of life.

And in reality, it is. The animals know nothing else but instinct. They just know what to do and how to manage the seasons as they change. And we could pick up a clue or two from their behavior. I don’t think they hang around each other, complaining about the current snow, the cold temperatures, and how much longer it is until Spring, at least those that stay here year round. But it seems like human beings somehow become hard-wired to complain about what they can’t change. Somehow there’s a sense of entitlement to having life exactly the way you want it, all the time. When it’s cold we want it hot, then when it’s hot we wish it wasn’t. The glass is full, but we drain it, then want it full again; always wishing for what is not. I don’t love the bitter cold, but there isn’t a single thing I can do about it when it comes except wait it out, wrapped up snug in wool sweaters. No words that can be formed with my tongue will make any difference, and the more bitterness I throw at circumstances beyond my control, the higher my dissatisfaction with my life rises. And that’s no good for anyone.

This all was churning through my mind as I skied further on the trail that day, listening to the whirl of wind over the open snow, and the moaning of a train whistle nearby. Being content with winter is challenging, I’ll be the first to admit that. But it’s also inevitable where we live. The snow falls, the snow banks grow, the muck in the streets covers our cars and potholes are everywhere. Granted, that part of the season isn’t the prettiest, but out there in the park that day, with just the wind and the train, and the endless lines of brown branches against the leaden sky, there’s a beauty that shouldn’t be ignored. And the best part about Winter is that Spring always comes, like the sunrise, a new day and with a sweet breath of relief.