The wind has been howling without stop since I woke up this morning. It's a cold, bitter wind - although it's ten above zero tonight, the windchill makes it feel like it's ten below. And all day, my thoughts constantly kept returning to the coming spring and summer. I find myself looking forward to the warmer months, which is something I didn't do often in the past.
I would guess this is because, while I have always had an interest in herbalism, over the last few years working with living plants has taken a much larger place in my practice than ever before. It's always had a role, but not to the extent that is has grown to in recent years. I miss going for walks along the roadside, out into the meadows, along the hedges, and even out into the deeper woods, drawing, painting, and taking pictures, learning their names, studying them, just being with them. Not just the plants, but the little insects and animals found with them, too. Sitting in with the foxgloves just after sunset, surrounded by fireflies and singing evening insects. Such a simple act, yet immensely moving and powerful. I miss that.
I still enjoy winter. There's beauty in the snow, ice, and dead and dormant plants. There's a lesson found in the silence of the still nights, and in the whistling of the windy ones. Still... there's so much to look forward to in the coming months. It's hard not to think ahead, at least a little.