I hate the month of January. If January was a person, it would be the kid that reminds the teacher that she forgot to assign the class homework. If January was a food, it would be creamed spinach. January is like a pile of dog doodoo that you don’t see when you are at the park. You are skipping along through the month of December, and then BAM you step in a big steaming pile of January.
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Last year on the Winter Solstice, I was wandering around outside taking nature pictures to post on social media, and I captured a picture of the sun rising over the frozen kale in the garden. I don’t know what inspired me to write these words, but here is what I posted to social media on December 21, 2021: Today is the Winter Solstice. The days will begin to grow longer, and the mud and gray of December will soon give way to the warmth and blooms of June. Take your regrets and hurts from the past year and put them on the metaphorical compost pile so you will have flowers in the year ahead.
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Married with Bees 