An Ode to Winter

A young woman and her dog running through a field covered in three feet of snow.

Where July brought cool rainy weather, August as stomped in with tons of mosquitos, high humidity and a heat wave. As I sit on our deck appreciating its screens, I can’t help but remember that winter was a few months ago and will return before I know it.

Winter, where my husband and I will bicker about how warm to set the thermostat and how many layers are acceptable inside (I stand by you shouldn’t need to wear shorts in your own house! Grab a sweater!). Where we will try to be patient as we wait for enough snow to go cross country skiing and snow shoeing. When the hiking trails will have less people on them and when hitting a trail without a good pair of microspikes leads to turning around and a disappointed dog.

Yes, the heat is high and the humidity sticky. Yes, we’ve made a game out of who can kill the most mosquitos while taking the dog for a walk. Yes, part of planning a hike means hitting the trail by 6:30 am and the thought of using our outdoor firepit is slightly laughable.

True, we long for the days that we can pull out our wool sweaters and curl up together under blankets. But to summer’s credit, when those days come we find ourselves longing for long summer nights and listening for the peepers to make their annual appearance. We laugh about the days when we were sweating as we rub a little warmth into our hands and try to remember what it felt like to struggle to walk down the street without melting.

So as I sit on my porch enjoying yet another freeze pop, I appreciate the feeling of being warm while remembering what it’s like to be cold. Knowing that before I know it, I won’t be able to sit out here and will be remembering what it’s like to be too hot.

A young woman and her dog playing in a field covered in three feet of snow.

Ode To Winter by: Matthew Holloway

Ode, ode to the winter
What music plays to sonnet
While a world drifts to sleep
Leaves curl and flowers bow
Birds take flight to a further place
A touch of frost creeps in
Stealing the landscape of its colour
Soon all shall be held motionless

In the still of a winters season
Now in all its changing
The beauty and perfection of life
Is left open to be witnessed
Savoured by the eye of an artist
To feed the soul, nourish the heart
This melancholy season
This changing landscape
What beauty it reveals
In an ode to the winter

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