Like a lot of writers, I love the Winter World. When people ask me if I want to get away for the winter, I’m always a bit puzzled at first. I’ve never gotten the concept of Florida, even when it’s as cold as it is tonight.

I’m not often in sync with the world. Winter is my favorite time, by far, if not the most comfortable. Winter is great for writers. The fewest distractions (unless there are big storms). The wood stove going off to one side, a dog or two curled up under my desk, Frieda standing guard, the cell and house phones turned off, e-mail and chores done, dogs walked, animals fed. That’s when I write best, when it’s dark and cold and snowy outside, and there is little to pull my mind away from my writing. It’s also when I love photography the most. I’m drawn to light and shadow, and this is the time.

Outside, there is a piercing beauty to the winter sky, the winter pasture. The the wind, the sense of waiting. Went there is a storm, the world is suspended. The animals gather themselves, and are quite.  Technology doesn’t work, the sky and earth are quiet, mail and bills don’t arrive and I am quite at one with the farm.

Outside, the light and shadows are gorgeous, shifting in the sharpest contrasts. The winter pasture is hopeful, expectant. The tracks and trails reveal life. I feel connected to the world. Winter is a challenge, always, the cold, the snow, the dark, the ice. I think I love that about it as well. I can’t say I won’t welcome Spring this year, I will. But walking through the woods today, and driving around looking for snow and light, I was reminded why I love the Winter World so much.