Now that the holidays are behind us, I'm settling into my first Adirondack winter. I love how the snow stays crisp and white instead of turning to slush. Sometimes, when the light is right, I feel as if I've stepped into an Ansel Adams photograph.
During the past week, it seems that everyone has slowed down. More people are coming to yoga, and I'm happy to have them. I've shifted the focus of my classes to make them more meditative, taking advantage of our natural inclination to come inside when it's dark and cold.
I've slowed down as well. I'm still working on unpacking, but at a less furious pace. Last week we started hanging pictures, and my daughter's room has been repainted a beautiful turquoise hew. My houseplants have all found homes, the light-lovers enjoying the bay window in the dining room. I've found all my shoes, my sewing box and my yoga books. It's starting to feel like home.
There is quiet time now. There is time for a puzzle with lots of tiny pieces. There is time to knit a hat for a yoga student's first granddaughter. There is time to read and write in my journal. There is time to just be.
Of course, winter isn't all about being inside. There is fun to be had in the snow. The sleds have carried us downhill. We've skated on the frozen lake. The snowmobiles have been freed from their trailer and have taken up residence under our deck when we aren't riding them on the trails. Our newly acquired snowshoes are ready for a test.
Since we are close to Lake Placid, we can also be spectators of a variety of winter sports. This morning we watched some NASCAR drivers pilot bobsleds on the Olympic bobsled run. The event got started late, and we speculated that the southern boys had to be dragged kicking and screaming out into the cold. I suspect it's a tad bit warmer in Daytona.