It has been too easy to hunker down, gazing at winter skies, finding excuses to ride out the coldest moments indoors (unless you are one of those winter outdoor types – me, not very much).

Despite a predisposition to remain in Cozy Mode during the most bitter of days, I will admit to very much enjoying the magic of a late night dog walk down the street during a snowfall (in seriously insulation, bundled up from head to toe) when nobody else is about.

Flakes falling gently, creating halos around the street lights, sparkles everywhere, leaving tracks coming and going. The hush.

It has been a good time for roasting colorful vegetables to add to a quinoa bowl, making salads with greens, pomegranate, mandarin oranges, goat cheese and pistachios in a honey vinaigrette, or having cups of hot horchata while curled up in a blanket on the couch.

January continues to bring transitions. Aside from a number of influential musicians, artists and activists who have left earthside for another realm, this month has brought sad news with the loss of a worldly, intelligent and generous friend.

For the past week I’ve been wearing the amber beads she unexpectedly handed me one afternoon, “Take these! You need to take these!” They feel like a little piece of sun, imbued with the memory of that day.

Given that, and the state of the world in general, it has been too easy to want to spend a lot of time in the comfort of bed.

It has probably been more unhealthy than not to habitually slip into the sinkhole of the internet, or to get lost in endless streaming of movies and series. I tell myself that’s OK…. it’s winter. In the spring it will change. I will consciously make that change. No sense beating yourself up now. Winter is the time we are meant to lay low and recharge. Right?

On the night table resides a small tower of books in various stages of immersion or reference, somewhat diverse and nothing particularly heavy. I begin one, then start something else, often having a few going simultaneously, only to put them down, distracted, to return to it later. The pile keeps growing. The internet gets in the way. The movies get in the way.

I’m on a waitlist for a few reads from the library. Often there is a very long wait, so when they become available, the ones borrowed supersede the others in order to complete and return within the allotted time limit. In a way this is good because it throws me back in reading mode. This one was just finished and given back today:

In addition, on my Kindle reader there are probably more books stored than I might ever get to. While there is something positive about holding a physical book in your hands when reading, with the physical books you have to stay propped up with a good reading light. The thing I like about the e-reader might be that it is a throwback to childhood; turning out the lights, pulling the blankets up over your head and creating a cozy cave, secretly reading under the covers with a flashlight when it was past bedtime and you were supposed to be asleep.

Boomer Bonus Throwback: Who used to do that with a transistor radio and an earplug too, so as not to be caught listening when you were supposed to be asleep on a school nigh – the amazing music being aired on a few particular stations, in early youth on AM, later on FM? I’m betting many of us did the same thing. And thus, my Earworm of the Day:

“The flutter of wings, the shadow across the moon, the sounds of the night, as the Nightbird spreads her wings and soars, above the earth, into another level of comprehension, where we only exist to feel. Come, fly with me, Alison Steele, the Nightbird, at WNEW-FM, until dawn.”

A winter goal over the next few weeks will be to consciously whittle down the existing nightstand pile.

How are you balancing the season? What is going on in your winter head? What’s on your nightstand?

~*~