The Secret of Winter

When winter envelops you in its embrace, the only place you can look is within.  Summer makes you look outwards.  It entertains you with a spectacle of colours, intoxicates you with its heady, floral scents, dazzles you with its bright sunlight, distracts you, takes you out of yourself.

Winter is about turning inwards and making peace with yourself.  It's about contemplating, imagining and trusting.  It's about guarding – and, if need be, keeping secret – the flame that those who fear the infinity of its possibilities may try to extinguish.

Summer is for those who believe only what they see, while Winter favours those who see not just with their physical eyes but also with the eyes of their soul.  For those who can speak with animals, trees and the winds.  Those who love Winter are not afraid to let their inner flame grow and burn with endless possibilities.  They do not allow their imagination to be fenced in but dare picture wonders others declare to be impossible.  Those who love Winter are those who trust, those who can already see what cannot yet be seen: that the tree's bare branches will bloom with bright green leaves again, that the desolate-looking soil will yield fruits and crops anew, those who sense the miracle of birth and rebirth in the darkness of the earth's womb long before the first green shoot springs out onto the surface.

Those who truly love Winter are privy to Magic.  They smile indulgently – the way one smiles at a yet ignorant child – at the paunchy, red-clad, doll-eyed image of Santa Claus, and, instead, wink at a very different Father Frost.  It is a Sir Christémas with a knowing face and a cloak woven with the colours of the earth – green and russet and gold, sparkling with icicles and embroidered with silver and diamond frost patterns.  An ageless figure with hazel eyes and the arcane knowledge of Merlin, who knows words that can alter elements, can cast spells and brew potions.  A shapeshifter who appears to you in the amber eyes of the russet fox that glint in the street in the middle of the night.  Or the mysterious green eyes of the tabby cat that looks up at your window as you close the curtains in the early evening, and says, if you can hear it, "It's going to be a long, dark night, so guard the flame that glows within you well.  Cherish it, nurture it for when the time comes for it to grow into a fire that will turn imagination into reality.  A fire full of magic."

Scribe Doll 

Comments 6

 
Rosy Cole on Monday, 28 November 2016 14:46

Lovely, Katia. I remember the winter of 1970/71 when the weather conditions were such that there was rime inches thick for a couple of weeks on bare trees,. It made them look like shadows of themselves. Rime is crystalline and glittery, icier than snow. Magical.

Lovely, Katia. I remember the winter of 1970/71 when the weather conditions were such that there was rime inches thick for a couple of weeks on bare trees,. It made them look like shadows of themselves. Rime is crystalline and glittery, icier than snow. Magical.
Katherine Gregor on Monday, 28 November 2016 14:52

I wish I could see that. Thank you for commenting, Rosy.

I wish I could see that. Thank you for commenting, Rosy.
Monika Schott on Sunday, 04 December 2016 08:54

Beautiful, Katherine. I love your interpretation of winter and going within, and not being afraid to do that. Such excitement and acticipation of what's to come. Beautiful!. ?

Beautiful, Katherine. I love your interpretation of winter and going within, and not being afraid to do that. Such excitement and acticipation of what's to come. Beautiful!. ?
Katherine Gregor on Sunday, 04 December 2016 10:15

Thank you very much, Monika.

Thank you very much, Monika.
Anonymous on Wednesday, 07 December 2016 05:57

Thank you for the cat's advice to guard our flame to keep us warm through dark and cold times.

Thank you for the cat's advice to guard our flame to keep us warm through dark and cold times.
Katherine Gregor on Thursday, 08 December 2016 21:02

Thank you for commenting, Sue.

Thank you for commenting, Sue.
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Beautifully said, Rosy. Cheers to you. X
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