February looms long, despite the expanded days, pushing the dark into the lengthening shadows. I am restless, Dwight. I love winter, but I find myself visiting the pantry a little too often. What am I feeding? There’s a longing, a void I am trying to fill. You seem content to follow the sun from window to window, although your ears lift when you hear the hinges on the pantry door talk. We share. A cookie for me. A biscuit for you. Adding calories to provide the extra insulation needed to play and work in the snow. But we have yet to see any of that winter magic, Dwight. Maybe that’s why we are bored.
We need a good snow to soothe the soul. A day to sit by the fire, read books, snuggle; contented to listen to the quiet. Don our winter gear and blaze a trail through knee deep powder, our foot prints cutting shapes into the white landscape. I realize you don’t care for snow. That heavy blanket drowns the scents of your world, Dwight, making you feel lost. I won’t lead you astray. We can winter walk in our woods. You might even enjoy it. A snout full of snow as you tunnel through to find the ground. It won’t last long before melting into the earth, softening the loam, allowing daffodils to push their way toward the sun. Searching for spring.
It’s Leap Day, Dwight. An extra day of winter. One more day to wish for snow. Or, maybe it’s just an extra day to read and enjoy the soulful silhouettes of winter trees…and lounging hounds.
dear-dwight 