The Writer in Winter

Yes, it is cold here on the Gulf Coast. The Sunny South is sunny, but oh, my goodness, cold! It dipped to 18 degrees early Tuesday morning. And we had freezing rain that coated steps and formed large icicles, something not often seen this far south. When I went out, I dressed in insulated overalls left over from my years in rural Oklahoma, several sweaters, boots, and a neck scarf. At the grocery store, two people I know laughed at me, but I said, “There’s no need to be cold,” and I was perfectly comfortable.

I was scheduled to go camping with a number of other girl campers gathering over in Louisiana, but we all cancelled because of the coming extreme cold temperatures. I’m just as happy to be here at home. I am never without interesting things to get into. And did you ever think when plans change that maybe you are being saved from something you don’t even know about and never will?

I brought in all my Christmas cactus. Maybe since more than one that should be cacti. The largest of these now sits just inside the front door. It is an old-fashioned Christmas cactus, grown from a sprig from the original plant my husband’s grandmother gave me at the birth of my son. This one must be about 15-20 years old. I love it so and hardly dare breath on it, lest I kill it. We are expecting frigid blasts this coming weekend, but after that, I’ll move it back outside. It doesn’t like to be inside.

Shown in the second photo is a gift from a friend–an amaryllis oh, so slowly opening. It is like a surprise, wondering what color it will be. I have never had an amaryllis bulb coated in wax, as this one is. If any of you have, please explain the care to me.

Just a bit ago I consulted AI ChatGPT about the term “winter years”, as pertaining to a human’s lifetime. Have you used ChatGPT? It’s great fun to ask it questions. When I first began to play with it, I asked it to give the names of ten writers similar to myself. Guess what–it listed Fannie Flagg as comparable to me. I was thrilled.

Today, in response to my question to define the term “winter years”, ChatGPT said, in part, “The term “winter years” is often used metaphorically to refer to the later stages of a person’s life, typically during retirement and old age. It suggests a metaphorical comparison to the winter season, symbolizing the later, more reflective and potentially challenging years of life.”

Having stepped into the beginning years of my winter season, I agree that this time provides space and inclination for reflection, and, if one is fortunate, much understanding. It is for me a time of blossoming soul. But let me say that all of life, from birth to the grave, has challenging years. Thanks to those challenging years that came before, I have more wisdom and strength to get through those that come now. Simply put: I don’t sweat the small stuff now.

If you want to ask ChatGPT a question, you can find it here.

Blessings,

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