on monday, i helped my dad shovel. it was seven degrees below zero and the wind chill factor made it much much colder, but i was bundled up and happy to be outside and moving.

usually, atlas calmly watches me shovel from the window. that day, he did not. he barked and barked and barked. i heard his (extremely loud) bark through the walls.

finally, i let him come outside. he ran around me a few times, nipped at my mitten, then went to the garage door. i brought him inside, then came back out to shovel.

i figured that was the end of it. he saw what i was doing; he remembered that he didn’t want to be outside; he would calmly watch or take a nap. but no, he barked and barked and barked some more.

later that day, something occurred to me.

when he barked, what if he was saying, “it’s too cold! come in! come in! come in!”

when he nipped at my mitten, what if he was trying to pull me inside.

oh, atlas. here you were trying to take care of me and keep me safe, and i didn’t even listen.

i am the oldest of eight, and most of my family lives in the midwest, so life here in michigan has been full of time with family.

games of yahtzee with my mom. games of rook with my mom and my grandparents. games of boggle with my mom and my sister. hikes with my dad. photo outings with my sister. sunday dinner at my parents’ house followed by games – usually with my parents, sister, grandparents, and brother & sister-in-law & nephew. playtime with my nephew. afternoons at my grandparents’ house – cleaning or putting up holiday garland or chatting while atlas snores on the couch. time with my brothers. two weeks of hugs and bubbles and books and “auntie nibby!” with savannah at christmas. a holiday full of family, food, games, and laughter. a kitty for atlas.

my mom is going to teach me how to bake bread and sew and quilt. my dad is teaching me about trees and showing me all the trails i missed when i was young.

there is lots and lots of time for conversation.

two years ago, i realized that one of the things that is most important to me is relationships.

at the time, i was thinking specifically about friendship, so i spent more time with the friends i already had and invested time and energy into making new ones.

but my family is incredibly important to me, and i am finding that this move i never expected to make is full of unexpected relationship blessings.

(my family plays games. i think i’ve played more games in the three months since i’ve been here than i’ve played in the entire 13 years i was away. in related news, my goal in life is to beat my sister at boggle. the last time we played, i think the score was 51 to 7.)

i came out of my meditation feeling gleeful, and this was the result.

the shop includes prints, cards, postcards, the story club, mysterious love notes, and more. all full of cheer.

good through monday.

enjoy!

need the link to the shop? here ’tis.

as a side note, i turned this particular dandelion photo into a {be of good cheer} postcard set. now i might need to make another set, because i am so loving the photo with a yellow border. i feel a burst of delight and cheer every time i look at it.

a threshold. a secret door. a swiftly tilting planet.

welcome to 2014!

may the new year bring you joy, pleasure, deep connection, a feeling of being held & supported, and a sense of your incredible being-ness.

in other news.

these photos were taken two days apart: december 30th and today.

i just can’t get over all the white.

i think we are on track for a record snowfall. there are snowbanks that are higher than my head. two days ago, there was probably a foot of snow on the ground by morning. i shoveled for my dad yesterday and it took me two hours.

you can tell that i am not jaded.

my two hours of shoveling felt like thirty minutes.

my dad and brothers did all the shoveling when i was growing up, and my dad still does all the shoveling. when i get the chance to shovel myself, it is a privilege and a pleasure and not a chore. (atlas watches me out the window and i wave at him every time i look in his direction. on zero degree days, he has no interest in joining me outdoors.) also, i find it very gratifying. i love straight lines and order and neatness.

what is your winter like?

i’d love to hear.

{i feel moved to share part of today’s journal entry with you. the questions are courtesy of martha beck and the joy diet, which i am currently re-reading. may it offer a spoonful of permission and a sprinkling of compassion on this, the first day of the new year. }

what am i feeling?

nothing. it feels like the kind of nothing that is blocking something.

i feel sleepy. again, not the sleepy of (i need rest), but the sleepy that is keeping me away from the truth.

i feel anger. it is behind my shoulders, behind me, a tightening.

now i want to know why i’m angry. it is not the gentle loving curious why, but the why that says what i’m thinking/feeling/doing is wrong and i must find the why in order to change it.

ahhhhh. now there are tears. my shoulders ease. i finally feel permission to feel.

i feel …

i don’t know the word. confusion? longing?

yes, longing. i sense a deep longing for something that i am not ready to articulate to myself just yet.

for now, that is enough.

what hurts?

my throat. it feels raw and inflamed.

it speaks of too much apple cider vinegar and not enough honey, of taking in someone else’s wisdom and thinking it must become mine because they are clearly wiser than me (by virtue of not being me), of forgetting about pleasure and joy and honoring myself in favor of pain and suffering and the opposite of loving kindness.

it speaks of stuffing things down and being small and thinking that my ways (and subsequently me) are not the right ways because they are not what someone else might have done.

it speaks of shame, of feeling embarrassed about how much i love my puppy, even though my love for him is one of the real-est and truest things about me.

ahhhhh. again there are tears. there is a cool release spreading throughout my throat.

for now, that is enough.

on the solstice, my sister, atlas, and i went to the lake.

the last time i was there – this fall – i walked down the stairs, walked a few feet over the sand and jewel-colored lake superior rocks, and found the waves lapping at the water’s edge.

now, after weeks of cold and snow, everything has changed.

the colors are different.

everything is white and grey-blue and black and grey.

the landscape is different too.

huge waves of ice and snow have built up, transforming the beach and the lake into an icy wintry playground.

we walked to the edge and looked down at a ledge of icicles that cascaded into the water below.

of course, atlas walked to the edge too.

i wish i could say that i was the sort of person who trusted her puppy and watched him calmly and serenely.

alas, i am not.

i sounded more like this: “oh! oh! oh! watch out! don’t fall in the water! stay back! oh! oh!”

(i am pretty sure that if atlas ever does fall into the lake, it will be because i startle him, not because he slips.)

it’s been a long time since i saw this side of the lake i love so very much.

she might look icy and cold, and she might crackle and sting and bite, but there is an exhilarating loving warmth to her just the same.

(i suspect the same can be said for all of us.)

all of it – the company and the colors and the landscape – made for a perfect way to celebrate the return of the light.

p.s. if you love the wild places, or if you want to experience winter through a lens of beauty + magic + wonder, join me in january as i find the beauty in the cold and the dark and the snow.

happy christmas, if you celebrate.

merry wednesday, if you don’t.

either way, here is a dose of merriment from atlas and me. we hope that you enjoy it.

dear savannah,

brrrrrrrrr, it is cold at the north pole right now. it might be just as cold as north dakota.

the elves in the stable are working round-the-clock to keep the water in the reindeer’s water dishes thawed. it seems to freeze solid every hour. when they miss a bowl, the reindeer bump their noses on the ice when they go to take a drink. almost all of the reindeer have bruises on their noses now. even rudolph.

did you write a letter to me this year? mrs. claus says i’m getting old because sometimes i forget things. i am getting old, but i never forget the important things, like where you live or how old you are. i do, however, often forget where my glasses are. (usually, they are in my beard. it is such a big fluffy beard that i often put my glasses in there for safekeeping and then forget about them.)

are you enjoying the holiday season? there is so much wonder and magic in the air right now. you can watch the snowflakes sparkle in the lamplight. you can giggle at the icicles on atlas’s chin. you can see the colorful shadows on the wall behind the christmas tree. you can watch the chickadees as they hop from branch to branch. you can find the green of the evergreens hidden beneath their winter coat of snow.

mrs. claus and i love this time of year. we drink hot cocoa and swap stories about the people we love. sometimes we feel sad because we miss the elves that have retired and gone back to their villages, so we cry for a while and then give each other a big hug.

(silly me. i am getting old. i don’t need to tell you about wonder and magic. you can find it anywhere. i heard how you found the mardi gras beads and made a rainbow.)

it’s fun to think of you getting older, savannah. i hope you know how special you are and how very much you are loved, exactly the way you are.

it’s time for me to say goodbye now. i need to bring some soup to the chief elf. he has a cold and his nose won’t stop running. it is dripping all over the presents.

don’t forget your friend santa claus, and please leave me a cookie! i love pumpkin raisin, just like your auntie nibby.

merry christmas.

love, santa claus

{like this? then you’ll love the story club. you can think of me as your auntie nibby, and i would love to have you along.}

“It is the life of the crystal, the architect of the flake, the fire of the frost, the soul of the sunbeam. This crisp winter air is full of it.”

~ John Burroughs, Winter Sunshine

{i don’t know who john burroughs is, but i need to read his book because it seems to be full of the most marvelous thoughts about winter.}

{this photo comes to you courtesy of an old truck, sunshine, and snowflakes. i am so loving finding the magic in winter.}

my mother asked me to decorate the table for thanksgiving.

all of my crafty supplies are in storage in oregon, and i didn’t want to buy anything, but on thanksgiving morning, i still hadn’t been inspired with an idea.

my mother offered me money to buy supplies, but i told her that sometimes it’s good to see how creative i can be using only what i have, so i took my pup for a snowy hike a few hours before dinner with the idea that i would forage for table settings and a centerpiece.

as we set out, i wondered if i could create place settings using wild apples.

on our walk, atlas stopped at a wild apple tree. there weren’t many apples left on the tree, and they were all soft and brown.

i continued on, feeling a little disappointed that the apple idea wouldn’t work out, when i happened to glance to the left. there, a little ways off the trail, was another apple tree. this one was much taller and the top was full of apples.

i tried to shake the tree. the apples wouldn’t fall.

i tried to use the dog leash to lasso the apples. the apples wouldn’t fall.

i was so disappointed. especially since i hadn’t been inspired with another idea.

just then, i happened to glance to the right and there was a long stick resting against another tree. the stick was the perfect height to reach the upper branches of the tree.

i used the stick to knock some apples down from the tree. they landed in the snow. when i dug them out, they were bright red and frosty and beautiful.

it felt like a beautiful gift (and a tiny answered prayer) from the wild world i love so very much.

(in the end, the apples were too frozen to use as place settings, so i placed them on cedar on a plate and it was perfect.)