we turned the page on the calendar, and...

my hall closet is crammed with coats. black wool coats, long and short. crisp spring toppers, fleece jackets and thin, hooded parkas. so many coats between my husband and me that we hang them on top of each other so they'll fit snugly, waiting to be pulled out when we need them.

you would think we could put the lightweight jackets away to make room for our winter coverings. but in the first month of this new year, i have worn practically all of them, some days changing out coats by the hour from fleece to topper to wool.

last week temps hovered in the teens, so wool it was, along with long johns and muffs for the ears. by the weekend, rain moved in with humid warmth and even the hooded parka was too much. the next week, the fog lay so thick by my mailbox that i could hardly see the street, so the jacket it was. today it's 60 degrees. tomorrow they're calling for snow.

i don't remember a winter this fickle, yet when we turned the calendar to 2014, we found the weather to be a mirror for what the month would be.

art by

@

debucket

i was so ready to turn the page, (and yes, i still do use a paper calendar), to bring out my 2014 planner and mark the squares with all the good things to be: a. trip to paris. paris! family visits (and not in the hospital), a new fitness routine. i was so ready to leave last year behind with all its changes and losses and move full force into hope.

on new year's eve, my husband and i found ourselves 500 miles apart, he making his resolutions alone in a Hampton Inn in Paduca, Kentucky, and me out with friends sharing ours at one of our favorite restaurants. his aunt was in the hospital, and since she has no husband, no kids, no siblings left, he was the only one to see about her. pull on the wool and prepare for winter.

on my way to dinner that night, i checked in with my son and learned he'd had great news at work. i felt the sun breaking through the clouds. on the first day of the year, i planned my trip to Paris. on the second, my husband headed home in a blinding snow storm. wool again. by the weekend, the temps hovered near 75 degrees, and all was steady, no coat required. then good news again: Aunt Betty left the hospital, and our daughter shared her own work milestone. i found myself thinking, well, maybe we can put our winter buffers away.

on the fourth day, we opened our home to the family of the newest priest at our church — or he would become one the following day— welcoming them with a warm fire and hot soup, filling our house with laughter that seemed to have been absent for too long awhile. on the fifth day, we witnessed as priests surrounded him with the powerful laying on of hands. all warmth and bright sunlight, hope. 

on day 6 i had my annual mammogram, opting for the new digital kind, bracing myself for a minute discovery. but all was clear. on day 7, my great-niece celebrated her first birthday — steady winds and bright sun, little outerwear needed.

then on day 11, the wind shifted, and i felt myself pulling on my heaviest coat to brace for it: the dog and i hid in the hall bathroom as trees swayed and 65 mile-per-hour winds passed overhead. and just about that time (i later discovered) my boss was having a heart attack. he is 44 years old. day 13 brought triple bypass surgery for my friend, and hours of waiting and days of fear for wife, my friend, and his three young daughters. on day 14, a dear friend lost her husband, 66, to

frontotemporal dementia

. on yesterday we bid him farewell.

today the winds calmed. the sun came out. the boss's health has improved. things settled in the the family. 

yet my coworker said she was tired. last week her dog almost died, had to be raised up in an oxygen chamber at the vet school, and today she felt the pieces of january weighed her down like a giant wooden puzzle.

we are just about done with it. january. a month i have loved for its fresh start, for the fact that my son was born at the end of it. but i'm weary, too, from all that has happened to those around me. i know the fatigue, the sadness and fear that grips them.

so i long for snow, the makes-you-stay-put kind, the watch-the-world-transform-into-swirls-of-white-and-crystal kind, that finds you pulling on that wool you are so tired of and heading outside. to hold your sleeve out just-so, to watch the tiny iced-jewels — each of them their own sculpture — rest on your sleeve, to show you that despite all, hope is there. God. Is. There.

writemuch.blogspot is the original work of author susan byrum rountree. all written work and photography is copyright protected and can only be used with written permission of the author.

may you write much

it wasn't supposed to be like this. i had been looking forward to dec. 1 because i knew REVERB would be back in action, and i would have something to write about. last year REVERB helped me launch my blog in earnest, giving me ideas each day (well, i didn't listen every day) to get my brain to thinking about the year 2010 and how i had lived it. so i was thinking just the other day, realizing that my blog posts had lagged for a few weeks, that REVERB was coming so i need not worry. i'd be back to writing in no time.

and then i get an email on wednesday saying REVERB is no more. the writers got tired. wanted to write different stuff. and just when i was getting started. and then this: what about doing your own REVERB?  what about inviting the writers (and the non-writers) out there who you know to join in the conversation? 

well, why not indeed?

so. since i had just a day's notice, and best intentions being what they are, i'm a day late.

but i can ask a question that has been noodling in my mind of late: what new did you do this year to challenge yourself? to shake up the mix that is you?

if i had been asked this question a few months ago, i would have found it challenging to answer. my life is pretty mundane. walk the dog, read the paper, pour coffee then the diet coke and head to work. upload and update, edit and remind, take a picture or two, have lunch a lot, pick up the dog, nuzzle, then figure out what to cook. cook. clean up. watch the Sing Off, Glee, The Middle, Modern Family, on down the line. then Sunday  church, lunch with friends (add in a couple of naps) and 60 Minutes, then Dexter and Homeland on Sunday, and that's pretty much my week. (there is a lot of reading in between the doing, books and blogs and newspapers and directions.) then we start all over again on Monday morning. every now and then an adult child will show up to brighten our spaces, or we will take an unexpected side trip, but for the most part — and especially in winter — life is snuggled up tight in the mundane.

and i love it all. love the ritual, the people i am with, the times when i'm alone. the dog. all of it.

but... i do wonder what it would be like to shake up the mix.

a few weeks ago, i did something new. i painted. not like a room or a piece of furniture or anything like that. i painted — a painting. my purple room friend Lee and i, challenged by a gift certificate to this new spot for my latest birthday, took up paints and brush and paper plate palette and painted something pretty. and pretty recognizable.

and this week we added a few more friends and did it again.

a year ago, i would never have considered such, content it appeared, i was in the comfort of what i could already create. what i was known for.

i can't give too much away! santa might just need it

then i picked up the paints and brushes and lost myself for a couple of hours. and it was fun.

i used to love to color, and the favorite day in school was the one when the teacher let us stir the tempera paint. when my kids were small, i'd sit with them while they painted with watercolor tablets or dipped their whole hands into finger paints, but i rarely picked up the brush myself. i wander through art galleries and wonder how in the world artists come up with just those color combinations, that texture on the page. and i have always envied my artist friends, whose work can be enjoyed in an instant. though art, surely, should be wandered through, writing has to be for the reader to appreciate the story in the words assembled there.  

so what does all this mean for you?

this month i want you to share with me. post a comment on my blog to answer my question of the day. or of you have a blog, post it there and send me the link. calling all writers i know out there, and even folks who don't think they can. each day i'll try to answer the question myself, to get you started. and we'll see where it goes.

consider this a gift to yourself. i know participating in REVERB last year was indeed a gift to me.

once again, here's the question: what new did you do this year to challenge yourself? to shake up the mix that is you?

may you write much!

writemuch.blogspot is the original work of author susan byrum rountree. all written work and photography is copyright protected and can only be used with written permission of the author.