Winter has never been my favourite time of year.  A lot of people in my life are away. The nights are dark and long, and the landscape washed in shades of grey, and not the erotic kind… When the kids were small we did all sorts of cool things. Once, with a big box from a new refrigerator, we spent a lovely snowy day, painting it purple, decorating it, making curtains and puppets and putting on a show. As the sky turned dark we were all still in our pajamas and having a glorious, “raindrops on roses” kind of day. Sometimes we spent time with my sister up at her cottage. The annual gingerbread house was always anticipated, as well as peppermint bark, vanilla hot chocolate, and a ski day at Horseshoe. These seemed to be the rituals of our winter vacation.

Last week I attended a ‘Sound Bath’ at a yoga studio. I’m trying to find my Zen. I was immersed in the vibrational sounds of crystal bowls, and meditations about the Winter Solstice filled my mind. It offered insight that was unexpected, resonated with me, and changed my perspective. The mediations reflected ideas that light resides within the darkness; a light exists within us, ours to kindle, a flame to ignite, and a path within our bleakest moments. I learned that winter is our time of contemplation. I discovered that with the solstice is our shortest day and our longest night, the sun is at it’s farthest, but now begins to get closer each day. I love this. I remember my mother reporting the length of days. Her glass was always half full.

Inspired, I found myself reading various writings and quotes surrounding the solstice and will keep this one by Albert Camus, close to my heart. “In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” We woke this week to a beautiful winter-scape on the front page of the Globe. A Clear Winter, by Arthur Lismer. We don’t see this kind of winter living in the city. But, we have seen it somewhere, at some time, and know these images in our Canadian bones. As my neighbour, Richard pointed out, ‘we know that we can feel the slight warmth of the sun if we are standing over there in the brilliant aquamarine sky, and the cold in the deeper cobalt blues shaded by the trees’. There is a beauty in the bleakness of winter, there is colour when the sun paints its hues, and there is a light that only exists within the depths of darkness.

Puppet shows have turned to wonderful meals around our table with delicious conversation. The gingerbread, hot chocolate and peppermint bark are still welcome! And this season, I am grateful for my family, for my friends, for the time we spend together at home, for kindness, for the winter, the scarves and candles, and for this time of contemplation and discovering the light.