Writing in the winter is always such a moody thing to do. It sounds odd, but for a moment imagine sitting by a window, and beyond the glass there is a bright grey overcast and a beautiful cold stillness. Every ounce in a while the wind blows reminding you the world isn’t a painting. Something happens in the winter. Something that makes a person connect to something from long ago. For some reason you can imagine someone in 1803 sitting with parchment and quill, and feeling the same as you. There is something timeless about the cold winter that inspires quiet reflection whether on your health journey or your emotional journey. Perhaps it is the knowledge that things are slowly dying, waiting to be reborn anew. Maybe it is a natural reaction to the cold, as we physically draw inward for warmth. I do not know, but I welcome it. Some people find it strange that I adore the winter, but there’s something wonderfully romantic about the cold dry air. Somehow it always inspires me to write and write in different new ways. In a way I am most at peace with my being an introvert during the snowy heart of winter. The stillness that radiates from house to house and tree to tree inspires me in a way that I am only now beginning to understand. The outside world sort of pulls out my inner struggles and thoughts over the past year and forces me to reevaluate. That is how I come to appreciate myself and my growth.
As the winter unfolds in my part of the world I wonder if you have any interesting feelings about winter? Do you think the seasons affect you as a person, blogger, and/or writer?