Skip to main content

Flying South

A flock of geese just passed over my house, honking away. I saw a similar group yesterday as I sat in my car before teaching. The weather is colder, the days are darker. I'm sitting under a blanket, too chilled to get up and make coffee.

Young children are taught to notice the changes in the seasons and to celebrate them. I remember gathering leaves and acorns in the Fall, and getting excited when we got out the winter hats coats and mittens because it meant playing in the snow was not too far away.

But something has happened to me in recent years as the trees become completely bare and the temperatures drop. I'm resisting. I'm cold, and I long for sunlight and clear skies. I feel too keenly a sense of loss and things ending. I feel myself bargaining with God--just one more sunny day!--instead of celebrating what is and what is to come.

For many years I taught preschoolers and kindergarteners to observe the natural world and to be filled with the joy of each season. Why do we do that, and then somehow lose it for ourselves? If it is something they need to know, then it is something I need to know.

It is time for me to get back to basics, and teach myself. Get out my brightly colored Winter nightgowns and find my fuzzy slippers. Bake my favorite cookies. Play music that fills my heart with joy. Finish that craft project that I put down in summer when it was just too hot to make a fleecy scarf.

Light a candle. And stop cursing the darkness.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Teacher Gifts

Today is the last day of school before the Winter Break. It’s a good time to remember the far-reaching nature of our public school system. You may not have children. You may have sent your children to independent schools. It matters not. You will be impacted one way or another. Yesterday I read a long thread on Facebook about several waves of illness in the schools right now. There’s influenza A and norovirus, I believe. And of course there’s COVID. Apparently in some individual schools the rate of illness is high enough for school admin to notify parents.  When I was little the acceptable holiday gift for a teacher was one of those lovely floral handkerchief squares. (I don’t know what it was for male teachers. They were rare in my elementary years.) These days the range of teacher gifts is wider and I have fond memories of Target gift cards which I have written about before. I think it’s safe to say that giving one’s teacher Influenza, norovirus, or COVID is not the ideal holiday...
1 comment
Read more

They Can Wait

This is not a typical Saturday post. That’s because, in my community, it’s not a typical Saturday.  Oakland Mills High School, after years of deferred repair, needs massive renovation. It’s pretty simple: when you don’t fix a problem it gets bigger. The school system itself said the the OMHS school building was  "no longer conducive to learning" back in 2018.  2018 .  But Thursday the Boad of Education voted to push it out of the lineup of important projects which will be given the go-ahead to proceed soonest.  In my opinion it’s a terrible decision and sets a dangerous precedent. To explain, here’s the advocacy letter I sent in support of Oakland Mills High School. I was rather proud of it. I am writing to ask you to proceed with needed renovation at Oakland Mills High School in the most timely and comprehensive manner humanly possible. I have read the letter sent to you by the Oakland Mills Community Association and I am in complete agreement. You are extremel...
1 comment
Read more

Columbia Chance Connection

  Last night, as my husband and I were about to sit down to dinner, our front door swung open and a cheery voice announced, “I’m ba—ack!”  We weren’t expecting anyone. Clearly the only people who’d walk right in to our house would be one of our offspring. I had my reading glasses on so I wasn’t seeing too clearly. It seemed too tall for our youngest, but we knew our eldest was at work. I took off my glasses to see a friendly but confused face scanning our living room. When her gaze landed on us we all had a sudden realization. We didn’t know eachother. “Oh I’m so sorry! I’m in the wrong house! My daughter just moved in and she needed hooks for the kitchen so I ran out to get them.” She waved the package. “All these houses look the same and I don’t know the neighborhood yet. I thought this was my daughter’s house.” We were all getting a bit giggly. “That’s okay. For a quick second we thought you were our daughter,” said my husband. I told her our names and said she should defin...
Post a Comment
Read more