What to do on a cold winter's day

Read and write, of course.

Most of my writing lately has been letters of interest as I send out my resume to yet more possible places of employment. Some of my writing continues to be via email lists where I explore the finer points of horse handling and riding. Some of my writing is the latest edition of a pilot project collaboration that we intend to be a 10 week equine facilitated educational experience for victims of domestic violence.

What else to do on a cold winter's day? Drink hot tea. And write notes -- those old fashioned hand-written things that require pen and paper, envelopes, stamps, and a walk to the end of the drive.

There is not yet enough accumulated snow to warrant wielding the shovel. That time will come in a few hours. It looks like one of those snowfalls that require me to shove open the back door of the barn so I can squeeze out and shovel from that side to free up the door.

I may or may not get in the car and go stoke the fire in the other house. The good thing about that house is we built in a 1400 gallon water storage tank and heat that, which in turn heats the house. With the help of tubes and pipes and a furnace that needs to run every couple of days.

It's a strange limbo. Winter is nature's time of hiding the potential and the potency of renewal. This year it feels like a winter of the psyche as well. A winter of many realms, where futures are hidden, and the times of release, revelation, and manifestation are yet to come. Themes of job seeking and soul searching mingle with snow management and financial surprises. It helps to know that struggles are endemic. It helps even more to know that hope is alive, and endemic as well.

The latest delight -- and that is a strange word to use -- is finding that RNB and I are comfortable looking at the options ahead of us. Not options that would ever wake us up in the night and make us exclaim: "Hey, I have a great idea! Wake up - I have to share my excitement!" No, not at all. But options that make sense. Options that reflect our ability to adjust, to revise, to adapt, to rejoin. Regarding our ability to rejoice together -- we do that on the dance floor. A form of nourishment remains consistent.

What to do on a cold winter's day? Read, write, reflect, ramble, and now go warm the fingers around a hot cup of tea.