Winter Wakeup Calls

For me, November 1st has always been the first wakeup call that winter is fast approaching. When I take our three dogs out in the morning on that first day in November, it always seems to be quiet. It is as if the earth has just heaved a great sigh of relief that the season is changing and the hectic pace of life is about to slow down - and it seems that earth is relishing the stillness.

Though the sky is sometimes blue, often it is cloudy. Either way, the air is generally crisp and clear. As I look up into the trees, most of their canopies are barren against the slate-gray sky. A few yellowed leaves still cling to their branches, but I know when the wind picks up even a little bit later in the morning, they too will flutter to the ground.

When our children were young, a smashed pumpkin or two lay in the road along with M&Ms and Skittles wrappers and remnants of colored silly string were often all solemn reminders that Halloween was past. The stress of deciding on a costume and the sometimes even greater stress of Mom needing to make it – a mummy, a court jester, and one year a hotdog in a bun – were gone for another twelve months. Most years, I was quite relieved when November 1st came, the children had all made it home safely from trick or treating, and the most pressing parental question was how to appropriately ration candy (and occasionally enjoy some ourselves on the sly).

Here in Maine, the time changes the first weekend in November. We lose an hour of daylight. All of a sudden it seems, the late afternoons are dusky, and I know that in not too many days they will be dark. Regardless of the unpredictability of the weather these days, the shorter hours of daylight are my second wakeup call that winter is upon us.

For me, the coming cold months are more than pulling out my mittens and winter hat and wondering if we will have snow for Christmas. Living in a rural area has made me realize that a lot happens in the dark of winter here at Little Farm.

The local bears and groundhogs hibernate. The deer gather together in their deeryards. The bees cluster and keep the queen warm all winter. The perennials die back, but they are gaining energy deep beneath the ground in order to prepare for their rebirth in the spring. The maple trees also use the cold winter months to restore themselves. As they begin to freeze, the sap that we simmer down to produce maple syrup come March is actually sucked up into the tree through the large wood pores connected with the tree's roots. Unbeknownst to us, the trees are recharging themselves with this liquid from their roots.

November may be the start of the dark season, but it is certainly not the beginning of a dead season. Just like in the natural world; for us too, it is the beginning of a time to step back, perhaps go inward just a bit, recharge, and cradle the darkness that surrounds us.

Here’s a poem by Christine Sine that speaks beautifully about the month of November:

The seasons are changing, The dark of winter approaches. I love the light and its summer brightness, It illumines my path in a chaotic world. But I willingly embrace the dark, For it shows me the stars and the moon. It grows my roots, Deep into the soil, Anchoring my life. New insights, new awareness, In the midst of struggle, Resistance and turmoil give way, To the spirit of life.

Nancy