Winter is closing in
Winter is closing in in Wellington, the fingers of its autumnal cousin pulling down the leaves of the few deciduous trees, its winds causing hands to draw scarfs around bare necks and woolly hats over cold heads. But winter, to me, is happiness and warmth. Me and partner, Jacob, grab dinner after work. We sit in the window seat of an Italian restaurant, eating Bolognese accompanied with glasses of dark red wine, watching people walk by with their coats done up tight against the cold edge in the air.
I’ve been writing these past few nights. Something about the dark nights brings out words in me. Brings out creativity. Where summer is about long nights, after-work swims in the clear turquoise ocean and spontaneous joy, winter is about turning inward, lighting the candle, cracking open the brand-new notebook (heavenly!), pouring a red wine (again) and introspecting. Why does darkness bring out such inward reflection? I suppose it’s natural. I suppose that our ancestors did very much the same – with the number of activities diminished by the blindness of the dark night, and with danger likely lurking in the shadows, it becomes natural to turn inward.
Or turn towards others. Jacob’s been working late, so I’ve been cooking – hearty bean stews with thick-sliced, homemade bread for dipping, coconut and butternut noodle soup, a spicy warmth that warms the cockles of the soul. We’ve been sat, like many cultures have for centuries, around our old, rustic wooden coffee table, on cushions, with a candle and stories of the day flickering between us.
This winter, I’ll be spending a month in the UK. I’ll take off from a wintery land and step into the height of summer (granted that may feel more like a drizzly, grey spring). As much as I love winter, the UK has long, long days in summer, with the sun setting around 10pm in some places. I think it’ll be nice to have a little slice of summer, wedged into the long, seemingly never-ending darkness. There’s only so much introspection and lying around on the sofa you want before the world calls outside the window for you to come and explore.