I’m not really talking to you! I’m talking to myself, in another sort-of New Year’s resolution. Not a formal resolution, because I never find those work for me. More of an intention, really. In this case, an intention to tone down the grumbling and complaining I’m so liable to indulge in unless I’m watchful.
Winter is especially hard for me, because I don’t like winter. I don’t like cold, I’m not a big fan of snow (beyond those first magical five minutes), I like light and lots of it, not grey skies and long nights — yadda yadda yadda. So the other day I was roaming the aisles at Stop n Shop (my only consistent winter exercise) and I was complaining. There’s nothing beautiful to see, nothing beautiful to photograph, nothing beautiful to look for. Nothing — Wait a minute. Yes. Right here in this aisle. Maybe something. Maybe a lot of somethings?
Of course, I had found myself in the flower department, and instead of stalking past with blinders on, for once I actually looked at what was there. Beauty. Color. Signs of Spring and hope, right there under my nose all along. I wonder what else I’ve been missing?
(My mother used to say dryly, Complaint Department is on the roof. Did your mom have a special response to grumbling?)