Welcome! The ground is snow-covered as I write, and forecasters anticipate at least six more inches by the time this column is published. I’m glad. We’ve had very little snow this winter in the Atlantic community, and I’m not complaining. But I love snow. It’s the only bright part of January. The twinkling glow of Christmas is long past. The sky is gray and the nights are long. Sparkling snow is a blessing. It reflects the light, even if it’s dim.
A man I saw outside Dollar General last week jokingly asked me if I’m looking forward to summer yet. I told him I’ve been looking forward to summer since October. Not the heat, mind you. What I look forward to is, as you know if you’ve been reading my column for a while, sunshine and outdoor walks. But, oh, the beauty of a snow-laden evergreen bough. Add a scarlet cardinal resting on the limb, and you’ve got a postcard. That’s a sight only winter can boast.
Smoke curling above chimneys in the Atlantic community always cheers me, too. Sometimes I’ll crack my car window so I can smell the smoke. Burning wood and leaves are the only kinds of smoke I enjoy. There’s something soothing about that. So there are good things about January. But I can’t help looking forward to seeing coltsfoot poking through the snow.
Did you make any resolutions this year? I usually don’t, but I made two this year. The first is to praise God in song more often. The Psalmists encourage this over and over. I’m trying. And I want to read more. I’ve read one novel already, and I’ve started another. There isn’t a single TV show I enjoy watching anymore. Reading is much more purposeful.
Have you ever heard the expression, “Slow as molasses in January?” It’s one of my favorite idioms. During the winter of 2003, I ate old-fashioned rolled oats with blackstrap molasses drizzled on top every day.
It’s a super healthful breakfast. Blackstrap molasses is an acquired taste, but it blends well with oatmeal. Anyway, I often thought of this expression while enjoying my breakfast.
Since I lived in a cozy apartment with forced air heating, I never got to test the true speed of molasses in January. This idiom surely predates forced air heating. I imagine in a house that’s say, 40 degrees, before the stoves and fireplaces are lit, it’s mighty slow. Regardless, this idiom makes me smile. I hope I’ll remember this the next time I’m tempted to tailgate a pokey driver.
Have a wonderful week. Blessings!