letters to winter: an ode on parting

Dear Winter,

I’m sorry I didn’t welcome you with open arms like I do every other season. It’s sometimes hard to accept that the time of blossoms, sunshine and colourful richness is over. I realised that all the beautiful experiences of autumn, summer and spring must be left behind and that what awaits us is darkness.

Don’t feel guilty. It just takes a little time to bid farewell to old memories with gratitude, so that there is room for new ones. You may no longer be able to drink rosé in the warm summer sun, but you can enjoy a hot chocolate by the fireplace.

Your name is preceded by an undeserved reputation. The reputation of being dark and dreary. Winter blues, colds and depression are attributed to you. All the beauty you truly have to offer is forgotten. Yes, the beginning may be a little dark and monotonous, you must admit. But you have to warm up first, don’t you? You can’t go from 0 to 100 at full throttle. Autumn had to clear away its leaves first, and the temperatures took their time to drop. These are all prerequisites for you to give us the experience of a true, authentic winter. I know you’re doing your best.

I remember the beautiful winter moments you gave me. One gift was the day you covered the landscape in a white dress. The sky was cloudless. The sun acted as a spotlight, showing off your masterpiece in the best light. It was as if you were saying: Look what I have created!

An attitude I could learn from, as I tend to hide my light under a bushel. I need to tinker with the light intensity control. Perhaps you have some tips.

I enjoyed your dreamy sunsets, which you painted in the sky, several times. I admired them wrapped in warm cosy blankets from the sofa, while the scent of freshly brewed apple and cinnamon tea filled my nose. Some mornings were not to be missed either. The sunrises took a while to appear, but when they did, they were spectacular! Suddenly, the sunlight exploded on the horizon and bathed my room in golden light. I shielded my eyes with one hand to admire the otherwise bleak landscape in a truly new light. The trees were adorned with hoarfrost that shimmered like precious diamond necklaces. Elegant veils of cloud acted as painters, adding shades of blue and yellow to the sky. My breath evaporated as tiny clouds before my eyes, and if the cold breeze hadn’t tickled my neck, I would probably have admired your masterpiece forever.

I am already looking forward to the days when I can walk through the white wonderland again and feel like Cinderella in “Three Hazelnuts for”. The tingling sensation that envelops me when I come back in from the frosty cold and my cheeks become warm. The soft socks that I pull over my ice-cold feet. Winter plans that I make with friends and that include at least sledging or hot cheese fondue.

Thank you, dear winter, for making all these experiences possible.

When I write them down, my longing for more increases. To retreat once more into the shelter of the early evening darkness and write undisturbed for hours on end. But I know that it’s spring’s turn now. I can already see her. Excited and full of anticipation, she knocks on the door and hops impatiently from one foot to the other. In her arms, she holds a bouquet of tulips and a large basket full of gifts.

It’s time to welcome her.

I look forward to seeing you again next time, winter.

Until then, rest well.

Love,
Cassandra