Owls are nesting in trees. Their young are born before spring so that the little owlings can live off other bird’s hatchlings. For some reason, I find this strangely comforting, with the full moon and those little furry babies waiting for the birth of others to survive.

Tonight I need to read Owl Moon to my girls. I need to sit outside in the January cold and see if I can hear their wings in the distance. I miss camping and spring, the walks in the dark and the sun. I miss the sun. I always try to tell myself this is the month to work, to submit but I think my deeper self truly believes in hibernation.