This has never happened before: I am excited for winter.
Yesterday morning it snowed. Really, it rained and it snowed. But as I walked back to my dorm room after my 8am history class, proper snowflakes were coming down. By noon, a little had collected on the grassy areas, like powdered sugar on a coffee cake. And I was thrilled.
I am excited by the greyness of the sky and the air. I am excited by the cold wind.
Maybe I was more aware this year of the bounty and the burden of summer (because of my internship at the farm), and now because of that I am more grateful for the quietude and beautiful bareness of winter.
I recently read this quote by Andrew Wyeth and paid little attention to it. Then, when the weather turned colder, it came rushing back into my mind:
This morning I cut a couple of paper snowflakes. Perhaps I'll make some classic paper chain decorations this weekend. I'm already dreaming of the scarfs and hats and sweaters (maybe) I will knit (maybe because first I have to learn to knit). I'm excited to start listening to this record again; it sounds like winter to me. And I've started a pinboard collection, here, of wintery things.
