January

Oh, January. It always messes with my head. Bare tree bones and evergreens. Want to hunker down in a little circle with my tail wrapped around my nose, just like the dog. I fall down into myself and need to be reminded to come out to play. It's a time good for losing myself in a task-- a translation, a crafted object, a project, anything that lets me sit relatively still and spin in on myself. My bones feel cold even in a heated room. My mind has a hard time pulling away from itself. This is supposed to be the time when things sleep below the frozen earth, preparing for some warmer day when they can burst forth in the warmth of the sun. Time to curl up, bundle up, let whatever it is lying dormant inside make its secret preparations for spring.