A lot of people declare that January is the longest month.  I suspect that the commotion in December and the New Year celebrations causes us to get used to a state of perpetual motion.   The quiet of January is in such stark contrast to the gatherings and excitement, the carols and the many details, of the holidays.  Even the food is reduced to average meals- and evenings are quiet affairs with soft blankets and books, or crochet or a good film.  Of course, I feel partial to months like January, on account of this.  The world needs January, I think.  Solitude and quiet times are so seldom, and so very profitable .    January is a fine time to sort your thoughts and to reflect  – and  certainly, there is no harm in that. 

 Every season holds my favorite kind of days, for I am surely fickle.  I declare in winter, that the sunsets are loveliest.  I love a bit of snow and a cheerful fire.  I like early suppers.  Then in April, I nearly swoon when I see the wild violets and proclaim, spring my favorite, after all and on and on I go til the honeysuckle blossoms and the wild rabbits have their young ones.  . .and then  there is the first  crisp day in autumn , when the trees are adorned in scarlet . . .and then the holidays are truly so magical, well,  I am just hopelessly in love all of the time, it seems.

I continue my winter studies.  I have been studying the Bible-specifically, the teachings of Jesus.  This caused me to do a lot of self examination and  I came up quite short of “admirable”.  Thankfully, I do not act on all that pops in my head nor  do  I say it.  You would think at my age, it would be an easy course, to practice my faith – but you would be wrong.  I am as liable to falter now, as ever.  I  spent a good deal of time pondering my desire for a  pure heart and my feeble attempts to claim it.  In the midst of my  complex and deep thinking, I decided  it better to be a robin,  for  the robin, I was watching,  did not seem to be contemplating a thing !   The absurdity of this thought made me laugh and  startle the poor robin.  . .still, I thought about the common little bird-I supposed he was happy being a robin, for no one told him that he ought to be an eagle and it was perfectly fine with him that he did not have the prized voice of the nightingale .  . . I could stand to take a few lessons from that robin,  I thought.

In order to regain a sense of balance, I resumed my reading of “Elizabeths’ German Garden”.   The book has some lovely passages, most especially, if you like gardens.  If you are not a gardener. I fear this book, is not going to be of much interest to you.  Even if you are, you are not going to burn the biscuits, because of this book.  First of all, it took a few chapters for Elizabeth to even leave the garden.  Clearly, Elizabeth feels more tenderly to her flowers, than she does any person ,  still I  liked the book, and may read it again.  It was written in 1898 and  so the  vocabulary is wonderful and besides that, I like reading of a time past. 

I have not watched one iota of television for a week.  It was an experiment of sorts and Christian was in on it too.  As you know, I did a lot of reading and the house  stayed tidier than usual, too.  I went to bed earlier and one night I made gingerbread, from scratch.  I  do not have time to watch a lot of television, but I admit I missed  hearing the familiar voice of the weatherman as I was cooking supper and I was always wondering which old film was playing.  The results are, Christian and I agreed, that we are going to adopt a new habit regarding television.

I am going to Elizabeth City, after school tomorrow.  I am packing all sorts of clothes.  The days have been cold, for the south-and the nights even colder.  We have not had a single snowflake, though.  I simply can not imagine the frigid conditions  north of the rabbitpatch.  Last year, for the first time in my life, the temperature dropped to -6 degrees F!  I had to check on the water pump and without proper clothing.  I expected to perish at any moment.  Conditions are not so drastic now, but it is cold, none the less. 

Rest assured I will call on Miss Claudia, when  I get to Elizabeth City.  She was so happy to know that she has a fan club of  rabbitpatch readers, praying for her. t means everything to her . . .and to me too.

“More things are wrought by prayer, than this world dreams of.”  -T.S. Elliot