I’m trying really hard to like January. I want to appreciate it for the new beginning that it is. After all, I like a clean slate. I like second chances. I like the optimism that a new year brings. I’m a fan of hope and I’m always open to a do-over. I know I should step up and embrace the newness of it all. The possibilities. The blank pages.
The somewhat inspiring quotes that pop up on my Instagram feed.
“The bad news is time flies. The good news is you’re the pilot.” (Michael Althsuler)
I’m not so sure about the pilot thing, which gives way too much credit or blame for things that are out of our control as a new year rounds the corner, especially on the heels of one that was incredibly unpredictable. And the simple fact remains that I just don’t like January. In fact, I’m pretty close to despising all 65 ½ days of it. I don’t even want to pilot the plane. And I feel bad about that.
Even so, I’m trying really hard not to waste the month away, dreaming of tropical skies and fruity drinks and hammocks. There has to be a better way to spend these mostly gray monochromatic drizzly gusty days. There just has to be a better way.
January magazine covers don’t help. This month, Southern Living is showcasing Island Escapes, while Garden & Gun is hung up on Dream Getaways. The unmistakable theme is not lost on me. They seem to suggest that maybe leaving this month behind would be a good thing. Spending January in North Alabama is on nobody’s radar and nobody’s cover, and yet, here we are. Trying really hard to like January. All I can say is it beats the alternative of no month at all.
“If I had my way, I would remove January from the calendar altogether and have an extra July instead.” (Roald Dahl)
I think I’d like it better if it weren’t cold. And last night was cold. The low was predicted for 28 degrees and night came early, as it tends to do in January. Anything short of 60 degrees is a bit nippy, with less than 40 just unacceptable. That’s more than enough to drive me indoors to the stone hearth in front of the blazing gas logs with a cup of steaming Swiss Miss.
Regardless, the two horses in residence do get hungry at about the same time every day, as do the 12 rescue cats that hang out on the back porch and at the barn. Of those 12 cats, only three were brought to the place on purpose. The others, we just didn’t turn away, although they did lose parts if they chose to stay. Planned parenthood is alive and well here.
At any rate, regardless of the cold and no matter how dark, feeding all those mouths is usually a family affair, with several of us pitching in to get it done in a hurry. Last night, Jenn and I shared the chores, feeding and watering and brushing and blanketing. And that was just the horses. As we closed up the feed cans and unplugged the barn lights, the night air settled around us with a hush. It was then that I noticed for the first time how very bright the moon was. How did I miss that before? It lit up the gravel drive ahead of us so that not even a flashlight would be necessary on the short walk from the barn to the house.
And with a moon that bright, there’s no way you can keep from looking up. The egg-shaped orb, positioned right above our heads, actually seemed lit from within, flanked by a stunning host of stars. Some brighter than others, they spanned a universe of unimaginable proportion and indescribable beauty. January absolutely owns the night sky. I give it that.
There’s something about the clarity of the icy air that just magnifies the effect of the night sky, all of which made me wish for a telescope set up and at the ready. In lieu of that, though, I opened my SkyView app and aimed it at the brilliant sky, quickly locating Mars and identifying Sirius, the brightest star in the winter sky. I’m quite the astronomer with a SkyView app at hand. We found Orion’s belt and a star that is apparently 85 light years away. Most of those stars are more than a lifetime away for me, I realized. I could actually see further than I’ll live.
As Jenn and I stood outside that old barn, marveling at the spectacle spread out before us, I had the same thought I’ve had so many times before—Time Can Stop Now. If time were to end right now, I’d be immensely happy and would wish for nothing more. And here I thought January had nothing to offer.
I’m not ready to board the bus just yet, but January has made me happy, at least for one night.
I don’t usually make New Year’s resolutions because the effort is too great, both in making them and seeing that they are carried out. I do, though, dream a lot. That’s because January is a one-way street, best driven in a car with the mirrors ripped off and a full tank of gas. Anything is possible, with no time yet for regrets. No turning around.
Maybe that’s why the month drives us inside a lot. It’s so we can pull out the Parks’ Seed catalog and flip through pages of heirloom tomato selections and pepper plants from South America and bright red tulip bulbs. The garden has not yet wilted in the July heat and the BioDome I’m intent on buying from Park’s guarantees a good start. January is all about fresh starts and making plans. I give it that.
“Our truest life is when we are in dreams awake.” (Henry David Thoreau)
January is absolutely a month for dreaming. It’s also a clean slate for watercolor sunsets and crystal scented air and rest and maybe even a few resolutions. I’m not keen on the resolution part but I’m convinced that dreaming is never a bad thing. And January gives plenty of time for dreaming while wide awake.
I give it that.
