Today is the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, it is the moment of winters coming, and it is here at 5:47 pm this day, a half hour from now.  At 5:47 pm  I plan to be out and about in the winter weather, in the woods enjoying the darkness after the shortest day of the year as the moment comes.

This is a day to celebrate, at least for me.  I enjoy looking around at the trees with no leaves, the ground itself seemingly bereft of the life that it was teeming with it just a scant few weeks ago, knowing full well that in just a few months time, that life will spring back into full view.  Knowing that which is seemingly dead is in fact merely dormant, and will return in due course is to my mind one of the most beautiful parts of life.

I love winter and the cold, barren, stark beauty that comes with it.  I love the feeling that when you’re out in it in the woods, which is the only proper place to experience it, it gives a feeling, to me at least, of peace and ease, and shows the iron strength of the natural world in all it’s splendor.

The wind howls and rages like a madman on a tear, only to subside and show a softer gentler side to the world that is hidden to those who never stay long enough to do more than feel the uncomfortable sting of the strength of winter. To bear the stinging whipping infernal cold, and come out of it makes one the stronger for it.   Those who fear the sting of the cold never learn the lessons it teaches, and never are granted the strength it confers.

The outdoors in winter is not for the weak of heart. And winter bears a message for those who would hear it.  Nothing lasts forever, and just like the summer winds, the winter winds and the winter, strong though it is, cannot last forever.  Better days are ahead, warmth will return, the days will in time get warmer and longer.

A viddy for you before I head out in it.

That’s it from here for now.  More later if possible.

Today’s Nugget, via wikiquote:  Many of the phenomena of Winter are suggestive of an inexpressible tenderness and fragile delicacy. We are accustomed to hear this king described as a rude and boisterous tyrant; but with the gentleness of a lover he adorns the tresses of Summer.  Henry David Thoreau

Time is not a reality [hupostasis], but a concept [noêma] or a measure [metron]…  Antiphon the Sophist


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