Creative Fallow

Just what is it that January has to offer? Not from the point of trying to run through it. But what if I were to just sit and observe what it is made of?

I would like to collect what I can from my surroundings, the small, incidental brush-ups with the elements. Just to see and feel what this month of wintering has in store.

This feels like a kind of creative fallow, not empty, just resting with intent.

I’ve no resolutions. I have what I need. And what is in sight is coming toward me without having to run after it. Vision and rest, a wonderful recipe for some laid-back comfort.

I don’t want to load up on new things to do right now. There is no need for more efficiency in my life. Slow living doesn’t need much of an explanation. And yes, I can be the last one from the table at every meal. We all can, can’t we?

There is no canopy on the trees right now. I can look out and see things I would never see in June or July. It’s a little more challenging for the birds to perch out of sight these days.

The Junco, my favorite little snowbird, has left hundreds of small prints on my freshly snow-covered deck before I can make my way out there for a quick sweep.

The ground that makes up the hill just beyond the sliders, and all of the soil surrounding areas of abundance during the summer months, are in their own scheduled fallow process right now.

Doing nothing is quite popular out there these days, unless you’re a bird. It’s a lesson I’ve caught onto. There’s no need to unpack any guilt disguised as winter clothing around here.

The only pressure these days comes from crunching snow and frozen ground under my feet. I believe January and I are already getting along very well. She is doing her thing and I respect it by giving nothing more than my attention.

The ground rests during the wintering months, and I’m learning to do the same. Waiting patiently for what will come to life beneath the surface feels like enough for now.

January, a season to hold and not push. I kind of like this concept. If resting is considered indulgent, then I’m ready to pack on some pounds for indulgence’s sake.

There are some things jotted down on my scribble pad on the top of my desk. I’ve crumpled up the papers and will start fresh when fresh calls again. But it’s pretty quiet around here. Maybe this is my thirty-one-day January moment. Who am I to argue?

I can read. I don’t have to finish. My walks, short or long, this month don’t come with a planner, but if it did, there might be some “skip days” to look forward to.

The fallow ground knows what’s going on. Its stillness is not wasted, nor is mine. Looks like I will be following her lead until the voice calls me to action again. But even then, I know it is all going to be slow, small steps. It’s always what works best.

I hope that your January is filled with many opportunities to do nothing but hold onto the quiet.

Talk soon…

G