Friday, January 8, 2016

Not Quite Ready for the New Year

Photo by Julie Falk
Friday holidays play havoc with my brain. For two weeks, I haven't had a clue what day it was. I unattached myself from my phone and forgot a few things that I probably should have remembered. Someone fed all the wandering children and grandchildren that floated in and out of my house. I played, colored, read books, and went to the (very warm, indoor) pool. I sat and talked, took walks and talked, went for coffee and talked, and hid occasionally in search of no talking.

By Monday afternoon the out-of-town crew was all gone. Yesterday the remaining in-town children departed for Arizona for a month with work.

The silence is golden. Golden, I tell you.

I jumped right back into my routine and haven't yet had my fill of this wonderful lack of words. I haven't had time yet to do my normal beginning of the year sit down with my old calendar and my old journal. I have been thinking about my "one little word" for the year, but I'm not ready to share it yet. Give me another week or two of introverted silence and I'll be ready.

For today, enjoy this excerpt.

from "Frost at Midnight" 
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

     Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.

You can read the full poem here.

Tabatha hosts today's roundup at The Opposite of Indifference.


  1. Doraine, you make me smile. :) From the grumpy Christmas to the not-yet New Years... I love how you honor yourself and let yourself live exactly where you are. xo

  2. "the secret ministry of frost" -- happy sigh.
    "But thou, my babe! shalt wander like a breeze
    By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags
    Of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds,
    Which image in their bulk both lakes and shores
    And mountain crags: so shalt thou see and hear
    The lovely shapes and sounds intelligible
    Of that eternal language"
    Beautiful poem!

  3. That's a feat, Doraine, to choose just the right poem for this transition from untethered holidays (we had busy ones, too - all good but discombobulating!) back to silence and back to work, and a poem that's a couple hundred years old to boot! Wishing you more golden moments of quiet inspiration this year, and a healthy, happy 2016.

    1. I'll take all those golden moments!Thanks, Robyn.

  4. Happy New Year, Dori, and all the quiet moments you might find hidden in the ghosts of conversation. This wish you shared is lovely: "Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee". I have enjoyed my quiet week, too, and glad you are back enjoying it too.

    1. Happy New Year back to you, Linda. I think "ghosts of conversation" might need to be a poem.

  5. Happy New Year! Your description of time with company is bang-on! I've been there. Those days of people and chatting/visiting/catching up bring on an adrenaline-rush that takes a while to recover from. The Coleridge poem is beautiful.

  6. With just a bit of tinkering, that first paragraph could be a poem, Dori— the makings are all there. I admire your resilience— your own "secret ministry".