IN WINTER'S WAITING - LEARNING FROM THE ANIMALS OF PATINA MEADOW

“5…4…3…2…1…Happy New Year!”

In that split second, as the clock abandons 11:59 and the hands align on 12:00, we find ourselves at the beginning of a new story. We awake the next day with this in our minds. Dreams and desires run amok behind our eyes. But before them, a more restful reality is playing itself out.

It has always seemed odd to me that the beginning of the year falls in the middle of winter. In a season designed for rest and recuperation, we have decided to stage a holiday about reawakening and resolutions. The trees are still barren. The ground is still freezing in the night, holding back the greenest grass for a day that has not yet come. But we, stubborn humans, want to rage against this.

If we could, we would force the sun’s return. We would plant a seed and see it bloom the moment it touches the ground. The trees may never find themselves vulnerable, and so we may never have to find ourselves there too.

But, we are tied to these natural rhythms we fight against. Our resistance and rage come at our own detriment. Nature demands to be witnessed and respected. It does not care that you have decided to go one way. It will pull you and the rest of the world in the other. The cold will come. You will shiver until you put on a jacket. It will call. You will respond. And profound wisdom will echo back to you.

We may consider ourselves the smartest of all creatures. Yet we still struggle to learn this lesson, one that every other living thing has learned long ago. When I slow down enough to watch the antics of our animals at Patina Meadow, I know this to be true.

The sun emerges later than when it shines in its summer prime. Until the rays crest the hills surrounding our farm, the animals stay happily in their homes, nestled beneath heaps of hay or snuggled up against sweet friends.

Once the day begins, food is doled out and enjoyed. Then the doors swing open, letting the frigid air hit their now-thickened coats for the first time that day.

Hooves and trotters make their marks in the mud as they meander toward their pasture of the day. They dot themselves among the dry grass and set their noses down to nibble on the last of the lush green growth holding on amidst the encroaching brittle blades.

Though I imagine they may dream of greener feed on the other side of this season, they do not allow that yearning to interrupt their appreciation of the little sprouts.

Hopefully, next winter, there will be a few more nibblers on our pastures, as our Valais Blacknose sheep have just returned from being bred. For the next few months, they will spend their time resting, preparing themselves for new life that will hopefully emerge in the spring.

Though it may appear that not much is growing as we look around, once spring comes and we hear the first bleats of baby ewes, we will be reminded that the space between the inception of a dream and its birth is never wasted.

This season longs to teach us that sometimes patience and faith are all that are asked of us. It may feel as though we are not moving forward, that the changes we long for are not in the cards. But the truth is, big spontaneous leaps rarely carry us to the other side. It is the small steps, taken at the right times, that bring us to the life we long for.

If it feels as though you are stagnant, if it feels like your wishes are not meant to come true, remind yourself that there is a time and place for their fulfillment. For now, you may be in winter, resting, storing energy, preparing for new growth. The first flowers of spring will smell all the sweeter because of your patience.

Love,

Leila