Hibernation

The weather has turned so very cold over the last few days.  I prepare to go down to the barn and am in the process of covering any bare skin, when I see the thermometer. Negative five below zero. Yikes.  Maybe I should go back to working in an office. If I still had a day job I would be toasty warm in my office sipping a latte, not heading into the freezing tundra to feed barn animals.

I tighten my sorrel boots and head out the door.  A blast of cold air greets me as I put on my sunglasses to shield my eyes as the sun bounces off of the snow.  I see birds at the feeder, but there is no sound, it is far to cold to expend extra energy in song.  I walk through the snow down to the barn and as I open the door, I am greeted by the clucking of my hens and the crow of our rooster. It is morning in the barn.

As I run through my routine, I really sense the cold. Normally I can manage tasks without my gloves, yet today I dare not take them off.  I feel as though everything expends extra energy because of the temperature. Taking a bale of hay I walk out the Dutch door into the pasture and spread out the hay in to neat piles allowing each of the horses to have their own serving. On days this cold, I also put an additional bale of grass hay out for the horses. This allows them to keep their metabolism up throughout the day. My fingers are stinging as I unwrap the twine from the hay bale. My face feels as though it might simply shatter. This is insanely cold!

Back in the barn I notice how still all of the animals are today. Our three bunnies are still below their individual heat lamps. When I peek in at them they hardly glance in my direction. Belle, the miniature horse is slowly eating her hay in her stall, making no effort to open her stall door per usual. Thanks much, but it appears she is all too happy to stay inside this morning. The kittens are snuggled together, all three of them, on the heated bed under their heat lamp. All rodents are safe this morning as not one of them dear lose their spot.

The hens are the only exception, they are moving around quickly looking for grain on the floor. I take a scoop and throw out more to keep them occupied and busy. Steam rises from the water tank, evidence that the heater is working overtime this morning. I find two eggs already laid, and already starting to freeze in the nesting box where they have been abandoned for food.  I scoop them up and place them in my pocket. Now I need to get back into the house, it is time to get the last two of my four kids off to school.

Once inside, I disrobe from my frosted garments in the mudroom. I step into the kitchen and the warmth of the house touches my skin and fills my senses.  It is in moments like this that I truly understand why bears hibernate. Why they hunker down and lay low during these frozen months of winter.  As human beings we refuse to let the seasons dictate our productivity or lifestyle.  We are 100% all of the time.  I ponder the idea that maybe we are not built to be that way. Maybe like the barn cats, there are just times that we are to hang out in the warmth and let the mice get away for a day. 

See I really like being at home.  Big deal you say? Well, it really is for me.  I have spent the majority of my adult life needing to “do” things all of the time. I was up and out of the house everyday, weekend and week day. I could not imagine a whole day where I didn’t leave the house and now I pine for opportunities to stay at home all weekend. My girlfriend once told me that I did more on a Saturday morning than she did all weekend. Productivity drove me. Accomplishment made me tick.  At that time, I worked full time, raised 4 kids, volunteered at church and was taking courses for my MBA. I felt fulfilled and important.

Please don’t get me wrong, it is important to do things. To be a productive member of society, but I am always stunned by the number of women who can list off what they have accomplished in a day at the drop of a hat. I secretly giggle at my friends who can’t sit down when I stop over for a visit. What is wrong with putting down the sponge and truly being present in a conversation with a friend?

I think I first started to transition this thinking in my life when I started to learn how to knit.  I hated to sit and watch TV because I felt as though I needed to “be productive”. Knitting was the perfect solution since I could enjoy my favorite shows and make beautiful items for friends and family. I would even take my knitting with me to friend’s homes when we were visiting as it helped me feel like I was accomplishing something with the time we spent there. Thinking about that now I can’t help but laugh at how uncomfortable I was with the idea of not doing, but just being.

But, if we never take the time to “just be” we miss out on so much. We miss out on the whisper of God. When we are too busy, we can’t hear his voice, we are mesmerized by all of the bright shiny objects in our lives. Managing time and stuff can keep our ears muffled from hearing his words. We miss out on the deeply satisfying relationships we were meant to have with one another.  Overburdened schedules leave no room for patient conversations with one another. And perhaps the most treacherous piece is that we fail to really know our own thoughts.  Spending time being still, allows you to think, to dream, to imagine.  Pondering brings enlightenment and self awareness.

As I head upstairs to wake the remaining sleepy heads up for breakfast, it dawns on me. Winter is a wonderful time to “flex” the lay low muscle.  With the gardens asleep, the air too cold for a trail ride, and my new found love of just “being” at home, I think I will definitely have well defined muscles in this area.  I encourage you to build in some “down time” to practice this exercise too. So, turn off the phone, build a fire, light some candles, pick up a good book, or grab some knitting and lose yourself in your thoughts. Take some time to hibernate; it is the perfect time of year!