December Round-Up

On being in season

Pumpkin in Gingko Leaves

Because the world is filled with chaos, and also with really good croissants and also accidents on icy roads, and also peonies, and also split pea soup, and the scent of fresh cut pine trees, I am always finding myself trying to reorient toward something I can keep my sights on. These days it has to do with making sure I am soaking in as much of the season I’m in as I can. Not season of life, so much as the actual calendar season I have lists in my notes app, serious lists, with things like: “eat or make and eat pozole,” or, “get in a canoe and go down a river.” It feels like such a small––and even feeble––attempt at something, but also it feels good to keep these lists and even better to follow them.

The Winter List is how I found myself, with husband and dog, in Freestone (a small town en route to Bodega Bay on the Sonoma coast) at Wild Flour bakery eating an Old World pastry I can’t even describe except the flour was earthy and the pastry had sliced figs. It was raining and we sat on a bench under an awning savoring torn off pieces and watching the rest of the folks in line look at the blackboard above our heads, trying to decide what to eat. We met a young couple on vacation from Florida who were missing their dog and stopped to admire ours. We drank hot tea and watched the rain.

We’ve also found ourselves walking down a trail under the wet, orange leaves of tree cover, watching squirrels hurry upward, occasionally stopping to peek at us, heads poking out horizontally, from behind a trunk. Here’s the truth: I am afraid of missing any of it. What a shame to go through winter without, somehow, wintering. Wintering can be a serious study in bread baking, movie watching and bakery visiting. And also a time of evaluating, taking stock of our lives, while freezing soup stock. It is, despite my love of gardens, my favorite time of year. I love that the world slows and turns inward and I can better focus my attention on books and poems and assessing the drafts I have waiting for me to revise.

And I love that where I live now I can feel the seasons just a little bit more: the cold seems slightly colder, the rain more abundant, and the leaves of the vines hit every note of orange, yellow, and gold. We are, I believe, happiest in season. Meaning we find ourselves when we are, more fully, exactly where we are. And this is what I wish for you and yours as you dip into this darkest still of winter. Before the days lengthen too much more, before we begin another year. Let’s stop and be in this dark together a little while longer, tea in hand.

And here’s a walk with me through Wild Flour’s winter garden.

And I almost forgot to mention that my husband Armando is offering day of reflection to ease us into next year. I will make a poetry cameo! Song of the Self. An online retreat. Another thing I keep meaning to do as I take stock and set out a path for the coming year.

And I’d love to know what’s on your Winter List, if you have one. An actual one or one by tradition. I’m always looking to add to mine!

Stay warm. Get wet. Savor whatever you have to savor. And tell me if you have a signature winter dish you like to cook. I am expanding my repertoire!

xo