Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Letter to January, 2012

Dear January,

In an effort to think of something meaningful to put on paper and roll into my old type-writer, I learned yesterday that your name is derived from the mythological God, Janus. Which meant the keeper of the gate, or door. That there were money-like coins with a face looking back and looking forward- which represented you.

However, I read a poem ,from a gardener's web page full of poem's to read during the winter months, and one poem said to bascically bury last year and just look ahead. Which makes me wonder if the whole two-faced coin is a bit much.

If I put the words to the song Auld Lang Sine- I would have to write the definition so everyone would know what it meant; Times gone by. And then I would have to write the whole song down because it is so good and I never memorized the words to it, or even thought about the song past a few of the sentences.

Do I leave a blank page; A symbol of the possiblities that could become of 2012? I think it quite a good idea; a blank page. I had often thought I'd leave two blank pages, directly in the middle of a book I wrote simple for one to turn to when it was too hard to think, or read at all. A place inside my book that you could pause and not feel like you needed to do anything- except lay it across your chest while you took a delicious nap. And if anyone came in to see you- they would expect you were into a grand book, when really you were just having a respite from my ramblings.

You could scribble your own thoughts. Which is something Padre HATES; underlines in his books. And I can't blame him when I accidently highlighted a book that had become out of print and was a collector's item... but I have since learned what and when to write in books.

Back to you- January. I am a bit let down by you. Yes, I expect your wind. But, you see, we didn't even really get a summer. So I feel cheated out of that bliss and tucked away my gardening hopes for the next season.

But you are arm wrestling with spring it seems. White winter, where did You go? Why did you skip us? Will you please just put down a small blanket of whiteness to cover the dreadful leaves that are matted down on the lawn. Could you softly cover the stiff grass and hard ground?

I am glad to be reading Jack London's book during this month- the month of The Wolf Moon (was that the 9th that you came? I can't remember. But Susan Branch's printable bookmark from her sweet little site is a good reminder of the Indian names for the moons.)

Yes, January, your dreadful wind and cold grey-ness drove home the sadness Jaden and I felt when we read about the faithful huskie, David, who became sick but would not allow his owner's to take him from his place in the harness. The hard, long, overworked hours of Buck's team carrying all that heavy mail to the correspondent starved individuals looking for gold, and not caring whether it broke a dog's spirit by such hard work- all sunk in heavy with your unrelenting, cold hand.

Whenever I open the door and feel the bite of the wind on my face, twisting my hair in every direction so that I can't see in front of me.. I wonder what I can do to outlast you.

Can I dance around like Calvin and Hobbes mimicking Indians and cause you, January, to be good to us? could you at least blow the clouds away from the Sun's face?

January, please snow. wind, please die down. My dear friend is sick with pnemonia. And I can't bear that she has it, especially with the weather as it is. She is as consistent as a clock, and it is hard to hear her sound weak.

And that is just one friend, one neighbor that is in need and on my mind at this time.

So, January, please see to it that my friends look out or into something cozy, comforting.
That they will rest and feel hope on the horizon. Especially the little kids that walk to school or the bus stop they feel the bite of life the hardest. (Thank you, teachers, for helping them get through January.)

January, I learned that even though my garden is the queitest right now that the most action is taking place beneath the soil. Is this why you are so harsh? Whatever the reasons, please snow. A gentle, beautiful snow that will cover all of this for a time. And we will dutifully face the unkind winds to come!

Most Hopefully,

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