There’s something romantic about Winter… or maybe in seasons in general. By romantic I mean it presents us with a new order, a new set of rules to live inside. Fall is nostalgic… and the cold reminds me of camping, the music, the smells, the company of friends and loved ones. Camping and the hikes that usually accompany it are all about living with what you’ve brought and what you’ve prepared for. In the cold, around fire and holding a warm mug in your hands creates a moment all it’s own.
I think I try to bring that same mentality home with me. I’m hard pressed to turn central heating on, instead I insist on warming the room I’m in with a space heater (akin to a close fire). I like being strategic with the layering of clothing as if I were going on a day hike… capilene long-underwear to keep moisture away, a lightweight fleece pullover to maintain core-warmth, a water-resistant shell to break the wind. A beanie and gloves to warm my extremities. A heavy quilt to sleep in (akin to a sleeping bag). When I cook, it feels natural to stay beside the oven, let the warm air escape after your done cooking. Slow-cooking in a crock-pot is homely … like a Thanksgiving meal that’s prepared all day homely. And while it cooks for 6-8 hours it warms the room. Whenever I do go out and come home, I want a warm mug in my hands, with tea or even just warm water…
Strange how the less you fight or struggle with the weather the more you want to go out into it… invite it inside.
