I just want to go away up north to the woods, swim in the lake, camp out, bask in the scenery, and journal…
it’s strange… me being this extroverted person, who most humbly enjoys the praise of man, has lately become a recluse.
this indeed for me, has become a very good thing. sometimes, i find myself taking a step back from everyone and everything. like clockwork, this seems to always happen once that winter-chill hits. don’t get me wrong, i love winter. i love to bath in it, play with it, and feel it sway over me… but, i like to experience these things alone- just me and the elements of the wintertide waving over me.
of course there will be moments when i want to share them with someone else. me being an extrovert, needs to come out and play a few times to get my magic meter filled back to the brim (a little zelda geekage for you). howbeit, come winter, i love to be alone. it’s the only time of year i am uber content to be so…
granted, when i was a little girl, i used to dream of a winter romance- being that winter has always seemed so sublime to me. i would carry-on with thoughts of tennyson’s idylls, a beautiful grey horse dressed in a white mane tickled with light snow, and the most handsome man God could imagine… just for me. now that i am much older, i still dream… i still hope… tennyson’s idylls always rest with me, that grey horse with its white mane is still waiting in the wings of my imagination… and that man will still come for me. but for now, i am riding my grey horse and charging through the resplendent chill content… for the first time in a longtime.
so, this winter, if you don’t see me as much, don’t fret or dismay! but try your luck, maybe i will appear. if not, i’ll be back again, just like the little brown bear i am come grotesque spring. I loathe spring so much, God forbid me spend it alone.
I have always longed for these words, or words like them, to be spoken to me… felt for me… realized in my eyes.
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!