On this wintry day, from my kitchen island, I stir my mother’s homemade lentil soup and look out at the Redwood trees, dripping wet with rain. The time to go inward is here, a simple but sure season of good things yet to come. I think of all that is taking place outside and all that is going on inwardly.
Edna O’Brien, the Irish novelist said, “In a way, winter is the real spring–the time when the inner things happen, the resurgence of nature.”
This is the case in the Sonoma wine country where the naked, golden brown branches after months of dormancy, resurge into pink buds and lush green vines, but not yet, not yet.
This is nature’s low-key time, perfect in every way with not much to do. Winter makes me want less, need less, feeding myself and my family with only the basics: food, shelter, love, connection, and energy to create a new. To be reborn like every living thing in the garden.
I am reminded of nature’s patience and the need to cultivate more of my own. My German Shepherd Jeb waits for our daily walk near the veggie garden, still needing clearing for seeds this spring. In good time, we will plant basil, cilantro, chili peppers, lettuce, tomatoes, parsley, cucumbers, and artichokes.
But for now, my desire to go inward, observe and write is heightened. The quiet allows for new songs of Sonoma to surface and make their way onto the page–of the orange breasted Robin hunting for seed on the grassy knoll of our vineyard, of the Camellias waiting to burst into red color from my kitchen window, of the night sky diamonds shining their brilliance under the valley of the moon.
I watch life with all its intensity, active stirrings and true offerings. I accept the cycles of nature–of death and rebirth. I see reality clearly and understand intuitively, the beauty of this life found in the silence, creativity, and simplicity of nature’s surroundings. I think of Aristotle’s words…
“In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous.”