Of all the things to love about my city - and there are many - perhaps my favorite is the climate. Us Southerners are, for better or for worse, a defiant bunch, and our weather is no exception. Winter here is generally just a cold snap, kind enough not to stick around too long, so that about the time I think I may not make it through to spring February is sneaking past and reminding me why I love this place: warm afternoons spent in sunshine while the daffodils quietly whisper, “just a little longer now...”
Reimagine
rethink reconsider review revisit redefine reexamine reassess reevaluate retrace rework reinterpret reframe refresh refashion recapitulate revise rebuild rejuvenate refurbish recondition remake repair
I am not a new years person. I don’t like crowds, I don’t believe in resolutions, and if I’m going to stay up late it’s going to be on my terms. In fact I sort of don’t get what the fuss is about. We all know that nothing substantial changes at the stroke of midnight on the year’s last day.
And yet at the same time there is something really lovely about the idea of it. Somehow a new year manages to have a feeling all its own, distinct from the previous one. Even at my lowest a new year feels a bit hopeful, like an opportunity.
Alone, in the quiet of the late afternoon light I notice things I’ve never seen before. Winter reveals what has been obscured all year, and I am grateful. It is unpretentious. I feel at ease here.
Root bound
How easily we can become strangled by that which holds us. The very things that keep us safe eventually inhibit our growth.
