Yes, it is an old English carol. But it’s midwinter, more or less, and it’s pretty damn bleak.
The weather is bleak. It snowed last weekend, and the snow shows no signs of melting; not off the roads, not off the grass, or the trees, or the sidewalks. Cloudy. Bleak.
But not everything. Things are getting slowly better here. A and I are talking more often. So are Mr. Goth and I. I’m becoming slowly adjusted to the idea of taking better care of myself; I make lunches for the week, even though I’m usually at home, I’m giving a diet and exercise program an honest go (and will be more kind to myself when I slip up and have to start over), I’m making practicing piano and flute a priority. And I’m working on making new things, which I’ll talk about more on my other blog. Really.
The place where we live is surprisingly lively this winter. We have lots of visitors to the bird feeder. Yes, some of them are crows and ravens, but they have to eat too. We also have woodpeckers, flickers, cardinals, sparrows, one lonely-looking black-capped chickadee, and an occasional fox. I’ve only seen the fox’s footprints, and heard our neighbors say that they’ve seen hir in the front yard, but still.
Winter will eventually go the way of other seasons in the wheel of the year. Right now it feels as though it’s never ending (and frankly, we’ve got it good out here in the US Southwest compared to the rest of the country). But it won’t last for ever. Good or bad, nothing will. That’s something I’m grateful for at the moment.