Snow and ice are charging up from the south, running up the mountains’ ridges and chilling what was in the low 60’s yesterday. Yesterday, I cleaned rabbit hutches. I pounded down rugged tire tracks in mud created when the ice from two weeks ago melted and turned my yard into a swamp.

Today, rain pelts my windows, streaking the screens. The sky is a light, dirty wool gray and thick raindrops keep plopping against the side of the house. And today, I spent about $160 at the Dollar Store (that is more like a not quite a dollar store but we’re trying to keep prices low store) and picked up soil, compostable pots, and solar lanterns. Oh. And silly pots of a dog, cat, and pink garden gnomes (oh gnome you didn’t!). Because, when it’s late February and spring warmth hums in my veins, it is time for me to shift from watching the world to being within the world. And beautifying the world.

I am working on my lifestyle and how I drive my life. In the past, I did my best to settle and live with good intent. But, so often, I got sidetracked and just plummeted down whatever ADHD path had lured me to explore. Which means that I have had a lot of fun adventures. But I didn’t quite accomplish what I set out to do. And, yes, I might have accomplished something else. But I still don’t have my novels published. And I didn’t write with the intent or strength that I could have because I was too busy watching the squirrels.

Peter’s illness and subsequent death took me into a stillness. A brumation. I curled into my warm mud and huddled and watched the world do its thing. I existed through holidays and just did my best not to be numb but not to grieve constantly. I just waited.

And then January turned. New students. New curriculum approaches. New choices and new chances. And I stuck my head up out of the mud and periscoped my surroundings and found a patch of sunlight. And I migrated to the light’s perimeter and found that it was warm. It reminded me of Peter. And I grieved. And I stretched into the grief and into the sunlight and into the solace that exists within both and I took a long, deep breath. And chose to stay in the sunlight.

Now, February in all of its artistic grayness is expiring. I have made it to the other side of this February without being miserable (yes, I suffer from seasonal blues) because of my intention. I write daily…well…almost daily. I didn’t write yesterday. I read books with greater awareness and intention. I study craft and style. I learn about different cultures with greater attentiveness. I read poetry to recognize and learn about techniques that I have taken for granted.

So, today, I did my next step of intentional living. I cleaned house. For 90 minutes only. Like set a timer and fly through the house that still has some dust in it becuase I wasn’t as perfect or meticulous that I could have been. But next weekend is scrub the house weekend because that is my intent and my purpose for one of those days.

And after I cleaned the house, my oldest child and I hit the dollar stores and we bought necessities and silliness. And I came home and set up a craft table and set another hour and lived with intent. While listening to the BEMA podcast (highly recommend), I sorted through seeds, set up my planting supplies, and planted native wildflower seeds. Butterfly weed, yarrow, blue mistflowers, and more. Oh, and basil. Cause I gotta eat. I started a garden journal where I can track what seeds I planted, where I put them, and take notes on how to care for the plants. Because I really want to have a thriving habitat for my family, our pets, and the local fauna.

I remember Thoreau. “I went to the woods to live deliberately.” He wanted to “suck the marrow out of life.” Yes, I’m likely mis-quoting. And I’m not living the Thoreau life of beans and “simplicity” that includes Mom visiting and bringing me cookies. But Peter didn’t brumate. And I’m not going to live my life the Peter-way. But I don’t need my mud right now.