Image via WikipediaAfter Columbus Day weekend, Schroon Lake gets really quiet. The vacation homes have been closed up for the winter. Some of the snow birds are already migrating to Florida and the rest will soon follow. Other than a few die-hard leaf-peepers and a handful of hikers, the visitors are gone.
Like most of the local business owners who work very hard over the summer, my first reaction to the quiet is a sigh of relief. This is followed by a brief moment of panic about paying the studio's rent in the winter until I remind myself that this is my third winter here and the studio has done just fine during the lean months. Next is the serious stuff - deciding how to spend my time.
Compared to eight short weeks of jamming in everything I possibly can while the sun is out, the eight months of cold ahead should be flush with time, right? And yet I always seem to end up on the brink of summer not having accomplished all the things I was going to do during the winter so I'd be ready for the summer craziness. Other than losing a hour or two (or twenty) to shoveling snow, there should be lots of time for reading all those books, making some art and knitting. There should also be time for planning and preparing so next summer isn't a rushed blur.
Where does all that time go?
I spent my free time in September making lists. I have a pile of them, listing all the things that I need to start doing, or start doing again. My problem is that without a looming deadline, it's too easy to put stuff off. Just as I have a hard time sticking to triathlon or run training without an upcoming race, I can't seem to find motivation for tasks until failure to do them creates a crisis and, let's face it, most things don't.
Is there a part of your year that quiets down? Are you able to use your quiet times to move forward with your goals or dreams? Or do they get away from you?
I'd love to hear your thoughts.