A Wintry Mix—of Feelings

Two thirds of the way through January, it is finally snowing! We had a bit of snow in late November and a little in December, but not enough to get excited about. It melted not long after it fell. Instead, there I was on New Year’s Eve, sitting in the backyard on a 53-degree day, sorting the wool I want to take to the mill for processing. It shocked me to realize the temperature was about 70 degrees above normal for that time of year!

That’s terrifying.

I have never doubted that human-induced climate change is real. Even as a child in the 1960s, I could see that people were doing awful things to the natural environment. I’ve been an anti-pollution activist since the age of eight.

So now we are seeing the fruits of our folly: bigger and more frequent storms, drought, fires, floods, cold snaps where it’s supposed to be warm and warm snaps where it’s supposed to be cold. Maple trees are dying here in Vermont, fleeing to Canada. Ticks have moved in from the South. Our gardening zone has changed from three to four. Working outside on a warm New Year’s Eve, I wondered if this would be known as the Year Without a Winter or, worse, the First Year Without A Winter.

I do what I can with my own little self but that’s a drop in the bucket compared to the enormity of the problem. I could stress and cry and wring my hands (I do that, sometimes) but worrying doesn’t solve anything; it just eats at my health and well-being. Thus, I turn my focus onto this day, and this moment, and the things I’m thankful for. While I’d be much happier if it were a good, proper, tick-killing, maple nurturing 20 below right now, I can also appreciate the fact that the sheep had liquid water in their tub this morning. I didn’t have to carry them a bucket of warm water from the house. The rabbit's’ bottles were still fine. I didn’t have to swap out frozen ones for thawed. I could scoop chicken feed and operate the latch to their door with bare hands. The air felt refreshing instead of brutal. The roads are wet but clear. I don’t have to go anywhere today, but if I did, I wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not the car would start. No doubt about it, homestead work is a whole lot harder in freezing weather. But while I appreciate today’s ease, I am simultaneously grieving, wondering what’s to come in the summer, and next year, and the year after. I have little hope that humanity will rally in time. Meanwhile, I live in a strange bubble of disconcertingly mixed feelings.

For now, for this moment on this day, I guess I’ll throw on a hat and a light jacket and go walk my dog amid large flakes of gently falling snow, seeking beauty wherever I can.

Sorting wool on New Year’s Eve 2022. 53 degrees F!