Rain must be coming soon. You may ask how I know. My hunch is not from a screen or speaker. The west-facing window at my desk is where I gather most weather predictions. Mid-morning today, the dogwood tree is active. The robins are abundant. I watch as they come and go like the wind. They have plucked the last few remaining red berries from the branches. From twig to ground they go. I try to count them but to no avail. Robins come in flocks when the rain is imminent. It is what I observe. Memories and observations are often the best teachers. Robins have proven this time and time again. They will cover the ground in spring and anytime rain is coming. Our days can be deepened by noticing the robins.
Subtle Change in Light
Yesterday, John and I sat on the hill as the sun was setting. We try to do this as often as we remember. The sunsets are coming earlier these days and frequently we are caught off guard. One of us will notice the subtle change in light. We look for each other, find a seat, and cherish nature’s signal. Winter is coming and it is time to shift. Like the robins, the natural world is slowing and trying desperately to take us along.
In the past, I’ve not liked myself as much in winter. I love the energy and the delight of summer sun. Discovering new facets of myself, soaking in the sunlight, and growing fresh crops is what feels like life to me. However, winter has begun to turn my head. The cold, dark days are necessary for nature. I’m now considering the idea that they are necessary for us too. Life is fast and it would be a shame to continue to ignore the colder seasons that I have always loathed. This is a time for healing and renewal. An occasion to embrace the dark that is not as common in the months when the sun warms our skin.
A New Rhythm
Like the robins, I know dark wet days are coming. Sunsets are now where I will begin, not end. They set the course for a new rhythm. A tempo that will take me inside, into the dark, and away from the familiar. The darker days offer more time to rest and consequently, time to heal and answer problems that have been set aside while the sun was shining long. We pull close to the flock, shift towards seasonal foods that summer does not offer, and turn off the screens early giving others our “facetime”. Low amber lights serve the soul and remind us to embrace the gift of winter. Sleep becomes a priority and a little extra is encouraged. The robin is hidden away and so I follow his lead.
Morning light is indispensable. There isn’t as much sunlight available in our 24-hour spans, so getting outside early is a priority during the colder months. To some, it may sound crazy, but I try to endure the cold temperatures at least once during the day. My mother and my second-grade teacher would cringe, but I leave my coat inside. Cold tolerance is more than being tough. It awakens the nervous system and balances much of our internal workings. I try to eat breakfast outside every morning, regardless of temperature. On rainy days, you can find me next to an open door on the porch. I’m often alone, but not really. The clouds are moving in and out, birds are beginning to awaken, and the wind makes its presence known-often subtle but brisk at times. Morning is when I fall in love with winter and gladly meet her face to face.
Robins
Robins know their nest will see them more frequently during the months to come. They do not migrate because of the winter. They change their habits, fluff their feathers, and embrace the change. They form huge, roaming flocks and meander about together. Looking for fruit and berries, we see them in bursts as temperatures roll past 37 degrees and food becomes available. For they never forget that without the healing work of winter, spring is not as glorious. The robins will bond with their own, rest, and adjust so that winter serves them well. Rain is coming and behind it, winter. A time to learn from the robins. Rest, adjust, and embrace the darkness. Together, our flock will heal.
Stay Curious,
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