I have been staying up late on this holiday vacation and being reminded of the long dark that precedes winter solstice here in the North Land.  The mornings come around fast and plans with family and friends beckon me up and out of a warm bed.  Life in a cold climate is not for the weak of spirit and there is currently a cold snap in these woods.  The temperature is hovering around zero and there is a breeze that sometimes gets upgraded to windy conditions.  As a result, there is a constant hum of conversation about wind chill factors, chapped hands, and faces. 

The SO was cursing the cold on our drive home this evening and he commented on how I seem to be enjoying the winter scene this visit.  And I guess he is right (but don’t tell him, ‘k).  It is not that I actually enjoy the sensation of the wind cutting right through my winter coat and straight into the marrow of my bones or feeling like my cheeks might crack off my face if I smile, my enjoyment has more to do with the feeling of being home.  Sort of like that old saying ‘home is where the heart is.’  Plus, I plan on being back in a warmer clime shortly which creates more internal space to revel in the wintery terrain for a few days. 

What I am really doing is continuing my process of deciding where to put down my roots.  Continuing to grapple with and turn over the concept of home.  That, and just outright loving being where my heart is…

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