Storm days

There is nothing like a couple of days of heavy snow to put you in deep resting mode. This winter is a snowy one here in Northern Nova Scotia. Yesterday the studio was open and those who lived in town went in. And they had a storm day at the studio. I am out the outskirts and decided it was going to be a storm day at home for me. 

I walked around my big yard with the walking sticks, cleared the snow, lit the fire and committed to home for the day. In the yard there were fox tracks everywhere. I followed them. I came in and I clicked on my audio book and hooked the day away, and stayed in. By three o'clock I was designing another rug to go on the frame. 

I was going to cook but when I went in the kitchen my husband had the place on his back so I surrendered to what he was making, made a salad and called it a day. And this morning it is still snowing a bit. The driveway is yet to be plowed. There are drifts of snow in front of the barn door that need to be met with the shovel. And so I won't rush out this morning either.

It is time I think for slow. And sometimes it is the weather that brings me there. 

The kind of day where you read over your journal notes and sort out what you really meant and what was just rambles. The kind of day where you call your sister at 2pm and talk for an hour. The kind of day where you get your novel, sit by the fire and read it as long as you want. These are snow days. And I like them.

I like them because they are a retreat. They are a day that I commit to myself, my inner life, and the simplicity of being in my yard, in my home. They are days when I get to spend time doing small things, a day without expectation or pressure. And this house I live in is a winter house, it was built for the snow and the cold. It is cozy and welcoming in the winter. And so I may be here most of the day today too because we are last on the plow mans list. And that is ok with me. That new field rug that I started outlining the end of yesterday is waiting for its first dash of colour. 

I can call the studio and work from home. Today I will make a new recipe. I go out in the yard and walk for half an hour. I will take another storm day and maybe stay home till I see some pavement on the road again. And I will be here now, accepting the weather, the place where I live, the joy of not having to be anywhere but here. And I'll play and poke at the house a little. I'll put on my hat and big grey parka and go out and look for today's fox tracks. Sometimes the weather tells us what to do, and all we have to do is listen to it.