stove light

It’s deepest, darkest winter. Technically it’s not the darkest winter; that went by a month ago and I am starting to notice the longer days and I'm grateful for that. But it’s deepest, darkest winter in that there are months of it behind us and months ahead. This past week we’ve been in a big freeze. And while winter walks usually feel good with cheeks glowing healthy pink and the hearty inhalation of great gobs of oxygen, recent blustery days have made it really unpleasant to be out.

I’m actively not complaining about the cold. In other parts of this province and most of my country it’s much colder than it is here. My Australian friends are enduring the worst heat wave they’ve ever had. In a cold snap you can make yourself more comfortable; in a heat wave there are only so many clothes you can take off. Cold is invigorating; heat is energy sapping.

In winter I miss the light more than anything. These days the subtle progress of daylight’s lingering over the street feels like a blessing; I want to reach out and grab it but the million colours of twilight elude me as exit the work day, moving westward ahead as I walk toward home. I miss the explosion of colours in the other seasons; winter's twilight is a jewel on the mostly monotone landscape.

The light has gone when I get home. I turn on the stove light, all my life a symbol of comfort. A symbol of the best thing about deepest, darkest winter – how good it feels to get home.

 

 

Comments

[Nanna]

Love this

[Jennifer]

Thanks so much!

[Susan Partlan]

Evocative post. I am unusual in loving this time of year, particularly because I don't miss relentless sunlight. The sun and I are not really friends.

I love the stove photo. It makes me want to heat up some cocoa.

[Jennifer]

Thank you Susan. I suppose I would get tired of relentless sunlight if I had it too. And I do love rainy days. I just have that 9-5-er dilemma, of going to work when it's dark and coming home when it's dark.

Anyway, funny you should mention the picture making you want to make cocoa. When I was thinking about the stove light as something I've always loved, I had memories of me as a pre-teen making hot ovaltine...

[Carol]

Yup, there is just something about a stove light....

C x

[Tricia]

I miss the light too.
Your kitchen looks cozy

[Steve capelin]

Who'd have thought a stove light could be so touching/moving. It's a poor substitute for the age old open fire or wood-fired oven but you make it mean more than the everyday.

It's been raining here the last month - and still is. It's like being snowed in but in the liquid form. At least we have some respite from the heat and we can still move around the city. Some parts of north america have been really copping it.