Savoring January

By Beth Yarbrough

January in the South is a beautiful month, if you know where to look. A few years ago, after deciding to change my way of seeing things, the unheralded merit of this season was one of the first things to reveal itself.

This is, of course, a month for pulling close - even if we don’t live under a perpetual blanket of snow like our friends further north. And truthfully, the absence of all those Currier and Ives moments used to be my touchpoint for complaining about our “short end of the stick” down here.

“If only we could get a big, pretty snow”, I would say to myself, gazing out the window at the branches of a nearby Japanese Maple tree trying to hold its own against a frigid rain, still clutching a few of November’s leftover brown leaves in defiance of it all.

Without Christmas joy and the Ray Conniff Singers to distract me, January used to be my uninvited houseguest - the last person to leave the party - the one who stands at the door and talks about nothing for an extra hour after everyone else is long gone.

These days, though, from a different perspective, I am falling in love with January. The sun’s rays are actually lifting ever so slightly from their December low, creating all sorts of moments throughout the house that don’t normally see light in that way.

Soups, stews, and really good breads take on a whole new life after a holiday season that was packed with too much sugar and spice and everything nice.

And the solitude is delicious - a luxurious interlude when nothing much is required of me beyond the next hot cup of coffee.

These days, January has become the welcome friend at the end of the party, the one who will kick their shoes off and settle in with you on the sofa to rehash the event. I now anticipate and savor this month simply for what it is - and that is a gracious, beautiful plenty. Sometimes all it takes is a willingness to look through a different lens.