D'vorahDavida
Yetzirah

So, if we call the hot, dry, weary days in summer, the Dog Days. What do we call the bleak, frozen, icy days of winter? I am going to call these days in January the Wolf Days of Winter. The snow lingers in our neighborhood like an unwelcome houseguest who twisted their ankle on our driveway and we have to put up with them until they recover. Now, in the summer, we well might be smug, because we are so close to the hills behind us, that the hot sun will go down quickest here and we will get relief from its rays before anyone else. But we are paying for our summer blessings in advance right now. WAY in advance. Though I have to say, I don't mind too much, because I suffer much more from the heat than from the cold. But to be honest, there have been times in the last few weeks that I was fully aware that were I to get locked out of my house at night, I very well could freeze to death on my very own front porch. I have to tell you, this has given me pause. And I am ready to set forth with a will, when it's time to start cutting firewood up in the woods. Which I am told by Mr. P will be as soon as he can safely get the truck up there. I am heartily thankful to be able to participate in my own wood gathering. The seed catalogs are beginning to arrive in the mail. I was reading up, and comparing the various qualities of different kinds of parsnips this morning. Choices, choices. It's taking a bit more imagination than usual to conjure up warm soil and sunny skies right now. But as I keep telling the dogs whenever they will listen... It won't be winter forever! I don't think they believe me.