“Morning. Strawberry sky dusted with white winter powder sugar sun. And no one to munch on it with.” -Francesca Lia Block, from Missing Angel Juan
February. Such a melancholy little month. Everyone (or maybe it’s just me?) is so completely over winter. I dream of springtime, or maybe just what that season embodies– fresh air, flowers, newness, hope. I know to trust in the silent, dormant growth that happens in winter (metaphorically and actually) but I’m ready for some birdsong and sunshine and, I don’t know, something to shake things up. I want to be reminded that things don’t stay the same forever, a feeling that really is intensified with winter. I want to wear a sundress and walk into a day that’s brimming with untold possibilities. I want to flirt and speak in halting French and read poetry to somebody new. I want the sense that something really is right around the corner.
A change of season won’t bring about a perfect life– this I know– and the present moment is rich, full, brimming with blessings. But I’m ready for that shift, that renewal, nevertheless. I risk sounding ungrateful– I truly am not, and know that the present moment is where God works and meets me with His Presence. I just look forward to Him opening the way before me. I love the words of a beloved devotional that assure me, “Though the path is difficult and the scenery dull at the moment, there are sparkling surprises just around the bend.” I hope that’s true.
Luckily, it’s not all winter sameness around here. The flower markets are starting to come alive– with sweet peas (sigh), ranunculus, narcissus, and lisianthus so fluffy and swirly, each stem looks like a scoop of ice cream. I’m always grateful for this surreal interruption in the flower world– the time in February when the barren branches and the bay (both of which feel about as stagnant as leaving a cedar garland and a Christmas tree up until mid- February) give way to ruffled, speckled, pastel, sweet, spring flowers. I reach for these, for softer colors in my wardrobe, and for punchy pastel paint colors for a new project. Bring on the Neo Mint.
I do however like to challenge of seeking beauty beneath the surface of things– it’s good to fight for it when it isn’t readily accessible, when the sun isn’t shining and the days aren’t resplendent with flowers and love. It’s too easy to give into the bleakness. I believe if you want beauty badly enough, you can create, willfully. If you can’t find beauty around you, you can create it, or cultivate it within you. How badly do you want it? Enough to create it from scratch, so to speak? These long wintertimes just might test your resolve.
I’m not much of a Valentine’s person– I have always actively protested against its manufactured, saccharine charms– but I do love any opportunity to express love, gratitude, and beauty. So maybe this isn’t so much a Valentine’s post as it is a post intended for the midwinter slump, the still seasons, the quiet days when seemingly nothing new happens. You can settle into the peacefulness they offer, or you can shake your fists against the silence. You can paint a wall, or forage a floral arrangement, or walk in the brisk cold air. You can joyfully protest against despair by choosing to be creative, vibrant, hopeful, and alive. Or you can accept periods of rest and nourishment, knowing that nothing (not even you) grows and flourishes year round. Except cedar. And it’s gross.
This post might seem a bit snarky, but in all truthfulness, I have found so many sources of creative rejuvenation this winter. Things like dried flora, which have transformed my life in flowers, giving me new forms of expression, and sweet flowers for all seasons. I love their heirloom beauty, their ‘gathered-from-grandma’s-wardrobe’ sentimentality. I’ve found joy in making and giving beautiful things, like this simple cheesecake, crowned with dried hydrangea petals, clover, and blackberries. Creative and beautiful things sparkle in stark contrast to the bleak days, gaining even greater meaning. Set against the backdrop of winter, any act of creativity feels radiant, set apart.
Little acts of making and giving and creating have kept me going this winter. I will forever be grateful for the artistic outlets I have in my life– writing, flower arranging, blogging, even styling sweet and simple scenes like this one. Something as simple as making a cake– or a bouquet of dried flowers– and styling a table can be so good for the soul.
This simple scene includes some of my favorite things– cake, flowers, and, of course, some gentle, pretty music. I have a little playlist below– maybe it will lift you out of your own winter doldrums? Beauty is such a balm, so I will always encourage you to seek out poetry, music, and prettiness where and when you can. Our simple, quiet days deserve these beautiful interludes, reminding us of the joy that is to be had in living.
I hope you enjoy these sweet things, turn on the playlist, and take a little time for something lovely. Each day has some treasure waiting to be discovered, if only we approach it that way.
Find that pretty cheesecake recipe here. And happy listening here and here:
xoxo,
McKenzie
