It’s around November time when I begin to think about the ‘vastness’ of the winter, ahead.
I let my mind play over the run up to Christmas, which, although increasingly dark, is brightened by the colourful lights and the spirit of the season.
My mental journey continues through New Year, which always seems an anti-climax, and on into the wasteland of January. I can feel a certain tension as I think about the cold and the days of rain and overcast skies that offer little light to lift the heart.
But that long dark month is good for testing one’s resolve, and getting more done than is strictly necessary… to set the scene for the year ahead.
And then something wonderful happens… My memory of that reverie is replaced with the pristine silver-whiteness of a hedgerow filled with the real thing. We are lucky to have a road lined with a wide bank, on which hundreds of snowdrops spring to life in the first few days of February.
Although still a long way to the spring. There is suddenly an emotion like ‘hope’ in the heart; and the idea of trudging through the mud for another two months isn’t so bad.
All contained in those beautiful silver-white petals… and their supporting stems of virgin green.
©Stephen Tanham 2022
Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.