January

Strangely, January is one of my favourite months.  I love the peace that arrives with this cold month. The fun and frantic sparks of Xmas and New Year have sputtered out and a social quietness falls as we turn our focus inwards, to our roots, like the slumbering trees in the brown and naked countryside. The weather is capricious and I delight in the wild winds that can howl through the cracks in the windows or the mornings when I draw the curtains to a crystallized landscape. We celebrate the end of each short day with a warm glowing fire and the rich scent of burning cedar wraps around our little home. January feels like the quiet finale of the old year and February, with its white drifts of snow drops, yellow bursts of winter aconites, crescendoing bird song and brighter, longer days is the true start of the new year.

Yet, this year January failed to bring stillness and respite. There was no pause or slowing down after the whirl of the festive season. The time I had been anticipating filling with print making, knitting and planning adventures for the year ahead was diverted to navigating the endless bureaucracy that comes with relocating to a different country. Add to that another bout of Covid in the family, a trip to the U.S. embassy to renew a passport and our car breaking down two days before Jon’s driving test. I felt like a crow being tossed around by the swirling wind, buffeted, a little out of control but just managing to stay aloft. 

I am tumbling from of this month of January, not refreshed as I hoped, but frazzled and frayed. Stripped down to my bare bones like the dormant deciduous trees. Yet within this unexpectedly tough January, there were many bright moments. Small simple ones such as the pleasure from chatting with other parents in the playground after school pick-up. Grander treats such as visiting the V&A with L after navigating the many numbered windows at the embassy and listening to her thoughtful insights about the history of fashion. A day at the coast, clambering up and down cliffs with A, while Dad regaled Jon with stories of his youth in the Navy and L and my Mum quietly sneaked back to the warmth of the car until it was time for A’s football match where she played confidently and brilliantly, the only girl in the game. Seeing the relief on Jon’s face slowly bloom throughout the month as he inches closer to leaving his stressful and exhausting working situation. But we made it, we survived!