December 2016 – Timothy Burge-Lape

When the Winter Feels Thin

I both love and hate Midwest winters. I love its thinness, the way the trees lose their leaves and stand stark naked in the cold. The way the wind cuts through the air like a razor-sharp blade; it’s like no other season. The way my body feels after being out in the cold, thin and strong because it can weather whatever the weather gives it. The way hot chocolate and baked goods are necessary items for coziness and to remember that the world isn’t always this thin, this devoid of life. The way the sun feels harsh, its rays hitting the earth at a sharp angle, no warm glows for the budding photographer. I hate it’s bereftness, the way the sun leaves us so early and doesn’t return soon enough. The way the cold makes my bones ache, like I’m an old man living in the 1800s. The way clouds only add to the grays and browns of winter colors, making vivid life seem so far away. The way I can get to feeling unmotivated because it’s cold and dark and gray when it’s not dark.

Through the years, I’ve grown less accustomed to the cold, but more able to see the beauty of winter. As much as I dislike frigid air, I love bundling up with a scarf and gloves. I love the idea of a person looking cozy, like they’ve been sipping hot chocolate and reading a book their whole lives. Winter gives us the chance to embrace our coziness, to make ourselves more homey, more inviting to the world to be at peace around us. It invites us to inspect ourselves, to look inward as we grapple with what life throws our way. For me, summer has begun to feel like a whirlwind. Now that I’m not in school, summer isn’t vacation time anymore. Summer is chock-full of weddings and cookouts and holiday parties. Friends and family are out and about doing things and inviting us to join them. Summer tastes like blueberries and watermelon, abundant and juicy. And fall is like a crisp apple, juicy, but not plump and full like berries and melons.

But winter, winter tastes like carrots and parsnips, potatoes and butternut squash, wild rice and barley. It’s not juicy. It’s not plump. But it sure is hardy. Winter will teach you how to survive life. If you can survive winter, you can survive anything. The earth isn’t giving in abundance here in the Midwest during winter, not like the spring or summer. But what it does give is health and strength and a firmness that can weather the cold and snow and grayness. I have come to love winter for the way it teaches me hardiness. It teaches me strength to persist, to persevere when it seems like there is no hope because spring will come again. Seasons love routine about just as much as I do, so I know they’ll come through for me in the end. I don’t have to weather this winter forever (unless I lived in the Arctic, which I don’t, thank God). I can survive winter, because I know it doesn’t last forever and I can learn the lessons it’s trying to teach me.

Here is my advice for surviving the winter when it feels too thin:

Eat your veggies. Make soups that incorporate hefty amounts of carrots and celery, eat big salads made of kale or romaine, and try something new like beets, rutabagas, or turnips.
Make (or learn how to make) baked goods. Learn how to make your favorite cookie. Learn how to make a new pie or crisp. Spend time in the kitchen, letting the oven and stovetop warm your chilled bones. Put your hands to work creating something tasty, warm, cozy, something just right for countering the winter thinness.
Exercise; make your way to the gym or stay inside and do yoga. Go for a walk or a hike and admire the different shades of brown and gray that surround you. As hard as it might be to work out or get outside for a walk, your body will thank you. This is teaching your body hardiness, helping it learn how to weather whatever might come.
Invite people over for dinner, for a game night, or maybe just for drinks. Bring the warmth and laughter of friends and family into your home more than you did over the summer. Fill the space with human bodies and smiles, bathing your home and yourself in mirth and joy.
Drink the right winter beverages. Yes, water is always a must, but take a special interest in hot chocolate, tea, or wine. Each of these are perfect winter drinks, just a cup or glass at night as you sit by the lit up Christmas tree or as you wind down with a book in hand. The warmth will spread through your body and make for a cozy night in.
And number 6 is my advice for life, but it takes particular effort in winter. Pay attention. Keep your eyes open and your ears willing to hear. Listen to the stories of people, to the rhythms of nature, the singing of the birds and the rustling of bare tree branches. Keep your head up, noticing the world in new and beautiful ways. Winter will seem less dreary, less unbearably thin when we pay attention, when we can see the beauty that’s just under our noses every single year.