It snowed. Winter landed. And I stopped writing on this blog. Winter was dark this year. Colder than I remembered. The holidays were good and we tried to keep the family sane as we moved through this half-lit world of pandemic. But somehow, some way, spring showed up.

Trees are green. The grass was mowed for the first time. Yard brush was chopped up. I had my first bike ride out with the boy. We have some garden plans and beds set up. There are bees everywhere (including our yard where they are burrowing into a patch back by what will soon be a flower garden). The world is warming again.

I’m looking forward to an afternoon in the hammock. Hikes in the green. Warm nights with windows open. And evenings on the patio enjoying the air.

And perhaps a few updates here and there.

The mornings are grey in an Ohio winter. Even on days that turn blue in the afternoon, the morning seems to creep in slowly and turns the lights up gradually. It helps ease into the day for sure now that every day starts in the same way.

If there’s something to remember from this global ordeal for someone who was privileged enough to be a brain in a jar it is the monotony. Every day is so very similar. It numbs the mind from time to time and it creates a feeling of being weary. Not tired. Tired can be fixed by a good night’s sleep or a quick nap. This is weary. There is no physical rest that restores.

So we go to the parks. We breathe the cold air of early winter. We read and write. We consider things at depth. Or we simply watch and let go. Just for a moment.

The snow blinks in and out of existence at this time of year. There will likely be rain tomorrow for 10 minutes and it will all be gone. I enjoy these first few dustings. It’s so beautiful and brings a silence with it that I catch myself dreaming about from time to time.

March snow is a different beast altogether.

But this is November. November of what will undoubtedly be a long and grueling winter for many, many reasons. All of the self-inflicted wounds will be fully infected and inflamed by next week and we will have no choice but to stop everything again. Perhaps this time, we can plan for what we might do to make sure we’re not here again in March.

Some days are longer than others. Even in winter.