The Aftermath of Groundhog Day

Yesterday was Groundhog Day, and we’ve got six more weeks of winter coming. I’m in the minority on this, but I’m glad that winter’s sticking around.

Don’t get me wrong; I don’t like being cold. (Who wants to be cold??) But Spring in Pennsylvania means a lot of mud, and I’m not ready for that yet. I also spent twelve years in Minnesota where I learned a healthy respect for winter and I got good at wearing layers so that winter and I could coexist. I went ice fishing, skating on a frozen lake; I did a Polar Plunge…

Winter may not be my favorite season by a long shot, but what I do like is that I can navigate it. As with anything else, the more you practice something the easier it becomes.

So after Punxy Phil saw his shadow yesterday, I trudged out to the barn in freezing rain to clean up horse poop and pitch some hay for the cows. And a friend asked me if I daydream about warm places on days like this, places like the ones in my summer road trip book Stories from the Road and away from the farm work. Daydreaming sounds like a natural inclination, right? But it’s not always easy to daydream at the farm. There are moments, certainly—beautiful sunsets, deer on the horizon, sweet corn straight from the field--where daydreams flood in. But most of the time you’ve got to keep your wits about you, or you’ll put yourself and everyone else in danger. Admittedly, it’s not the best environment for a poet. Yet here I stand. And really, I only help out where needed, so the farm to me is not as much a job as a place I love and care for. You’ll see in upcoming blog posts that I’ve had little training for farm work and I get thrown into the mix and rarely land on my feet.

So yesterday I was not daydreaming about warm places in my book. But I also wasn’t thinking about the cold. (My parents got me a lined vest for Christmas, an extra layer that is such a game-changer.) Instead of wishing I were someplace else, I actually really enjoyed myself in the here and now. Funny enough, that’s one of the biggest takeaways in Stories From the Road: Be happy right where you are. Along with: Enjoy what life hands you, and enjoy the company you keep.

So burrow in, everybody, the groundhog said six more weeks of winter. Enjoy comfy clothes and hot tea and crisp, refreshing air just a little longer. For those of you close to me, Mud Season will be upon us again soon. (By then I’ll find something I like about it.)

P.S. There’s plenty of sunshine, summer, and hilarious adventures in Stories From the Road. If you need a little winter pick-me-up, then grab the book here. It’ll warm you right up.