Hello from the other side! 

I normally have a good idea of what I want to say and go through the past month’s photos to remember everything. After two months that seemed to bleed into one another I didn’t have much to share. Even after going through photos there wasn’t much material to work with. A theme sort of pieced itself together while I scrolled, sighing and thinking “there’s nothing here but lichen, baking, and naps.”

I feel almost nauseated writing about the past few months as it is a time of indulgence. I made a soup tonight from our carrots and squash we grew last summer. For a garnish I used a pre-made snack mix of sunflower seeds, cranberries, and candied pecans. I’m sure reading this sounds like a really lovely wholesome meal but it made me want to puke! The holidays and colder months aren’t just indulging in shopping and treats, everything feels a little bit too much. We aren’t eating lettuce, we are eating dark, heavy, leafy greens. The fruit of summer is dried and a much more condensed, strong flavor. It’s only January and I am burnt out on rich food, moody color palettes, and candied pecans. 

I think my appreciation of “real” winter enters here. Outside does not feel overly indulgent, it feels sharp and clear. The blue spruces smell fresh, the massive amount of snow is crisp, I love how my lungs feel inhaling icy air. I am unable to get too comfortable and can push my body after months of irresponsibly long naps in front of the wood stove after making hot cocoa. Visually, winter feels like a great detoxification after staring at such excess. Homes filled with decor, lights and banners strung along streets, so many faces at tables, cars filled with gifts driving back down the highway after visiting family. It feels so good to stand outside on a gray day and just see barren landscape. When I walk the empty stalks of plants quietly snap, the snow groans and crunches, occasionally a crow or hawk will slice across the sky. 

Maintaining a sense of self during the holidays has been a work in progress and I am so proud of my work. Six or seven years ago I would sometimes be late visiting family because I was crying for no known reason. I would go off ranting on social media about pointless, thoughtless gifts and the garbage they create. I would feel the need to wear all new clothes and do all new things to shake the post holiday depression. These days I am prepared and I feel some sort of ownership now that I am a parent. As the matriarch jobs like meal planning, decorating, celebrating are delegated to me and every year I am better at doing less. We now have one small box of christmas decor that is a set of Yule goats, a tea towel, german wooden figures, a felt ball strand, an orange slice strand, and our ornaments. Our tree cost $20 from a thrift store and I wouldn’t change a thing. This is not to say I don’t enjoy Christmas decorations. I really love going to a well decorated home, or looking out my window at night and seeing the soft glow of homes down the road. I love those little plastic candles that sit in every window and robust, fresh wreaths on doors. I love thinking of others and seeing family for days on end and eating the traditional Bankes family Christmas Eve dinner. But for me, our home, I need it to just be our tree and our little cardboard box. 

My post holiday angst has taken me on a surprising trip to my early childhood: I am really feeling the grunge right now. All I knew was the music and fashion, I didn’t know the foundational values of what made that scene so important and underrated. I’m finding a lot of validation and comfort reading about these bands and those who followed them. Anti consumerism, even if it was a fleeting fashion trend, became mainstream. Dressed down, loose, thrifted and hand me down clothes were cool because it meant subverting the cultural norm of: BUY BUY BUY. Really famous men stood up and looked America in the eye and said women are in charge of their bodies. I really appreciate the layering of really powerful vocals over lyrics so angry they could bleed and then long stretches of sadness. My style is generally bohemian but I never realized how much the grunge scene of the 1990s influenced me. The flowing, loose, genderless clothes with little to no makeup and natural hair. I never adapted well to the 2000s trends of cool-toned eye shadow, over plucked eyebrows, super tight low rise jeans and tube tops. I could never figure out how to do any of that and I don’t think I really wanted to put in the work. Settling into my true self as an adult, especially one with chronic pain and a daughter watching me, I am relishing returning to the 90s minimalism. I feel so at home in my overalls and a mens flannel shirt and a ponytail. Finally, there is nothing left to prove. 

On the homesteading end of things we have been baking our butts off. Having a several day stretch of single digit (even no digit) temperatures kept us inside. Jadzia and I have made cookies almost every day. If I am in the kitchen she will approach me and say “I help?” She really wants to be involved in the cooking process. We slide her tower over so she can reach the counter and she helps stir and pour in ingredients. Since this baking binge began Jadzia went from counting to 3 to now saying “four, five!” My favorite cookies we’ve made so far were these big, soft, chewy ginger molasses cookies. Unfortunately our largest dog, Henry, ate six of them off the counter. 

Jadzia and I are all weather people. We are happy to go out rain or shine unless there is a downpour of freezing rain. However I will keep her inside if something were to happen to me and she could get really hurt. If we had gone outside on those five degree days and I slipped and hit my head on ice and we were not close to the house she could’ve gotten frostbite. There was so much snow she could’ve even gotten stuck. I think that is an unfortunate downside to being a mother is that we are alone with our children so often we wonder about the worst case scenario. If I pass out will she be able to get home? Will someone hear her at the door and let her in? Will she remember to not eat the honeysuckle berries? I know these thoughts are paranoid but they are what have kept our species alive for so many years.

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We’ve been enjoying all the little gifts winter has to offer now that there is so much less to look at. Jadzia loves footprints and we’ve been talking about which ones belong to her, me, dad, the dogs, squirrels, and rabbits. We talk about the lichen on the tree branches. We even found some wood ear mushrooms that were so fun for her to poke at and moderately tasty for me to eat on pasta that night. Our barred owl is still taking up residency here and will call back to me when I check on him. 

During the cold days we kept our chickens in the coop and moved their food inside. Eventually the juncos caught on there were little old food crumbs on the floor in the run and have been feasting. Unfortunately it takes them a long time to remember how to get back out and the dogs love terrorizing them as they fly from one end to the other. 

A strange phenomenon we’ve experienced is finding dozens of dead honeybees scattered on top of the freshly fallen snow. Last winter during the ice storm we lost the top half of a large maple tree. It snapped off at the trunk and exposed a rather large hive of honeybees. We felt bad for them that the roof to their home had fallen away and they were now at the mercy of the elements. Matt told me when he and Steve split the wood to dry they could smell the honey wafting up from their chainsaws. For whatever reason many of those bees have started appearing all over the driveway and our yard, one even made it to the porch much to Jadzia’s delight. She spends a lot of time talking about the bee from the honey tree and covering him back up with snow. 

Finally the feeling of nausea accompanying the sight of cranberries and candied pecans has started to pass. I am still very much indulging in hibernation with long nights of sleep, heavy pasta dinners, and wood stove dog cuddles. However, the cold minimalism of deep winter is something I will savor. How can we rest if we don’t spend long amounts of time staring at a barren, snow covered landscape?