In winter I am a very happy hermit.
I think nature plans it that way, don't you think?
Winter, for me, is a time to rest, rejunenate and re-dream those dreams, maybe even tweak them a little or dream brand new ones. And then when spring comes, we are fresh and rested and ready to go into action.
Every year after the holidays, I go into hermit mode. During the day, while the sun is up, I am out and about running my errands, popping into thrift shops and doing whatever else needs to be done. But by the time the sun goes down, wild horses couldn't drag me out. There is no place I would rather be then wrapped in my old shawl, cup of tea in one hand, pen in the other while I scribble in my black and white speckled composition book. There is never one of those far from me. I've had a composition notebook in my life since I was 11 years old, and it's where I keep thoughts, plans, lists and dreams. Right now it is full of ideas. Ideas for the shop, for craft shows in the spring and summer, for the garden and for writing a book.
I love losing myself in all my hermit-y glory.
But usually by the end of February something happens. It's subtle at first, but by early March there is no denying it.
My Spring Wings start to flutter.
It starts with a feather or two, quietly growing so I hardly notice. But before long, my wings are full and ready to fly and my hermit self goes to sleep and waits until next winter to raise its sleepy, cozy, comfy head.
Miss Gretel also believes she has wings of a kind. She is convinced that if she practices hard enough, she can fly with her ears.
Far be it from me to not be supportive of someone else's dreams.