chapter five: small signs
a late winter moment at longview cottage
budding branch at late winter sunset
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increments
Winter does not loosen its hold all at once. But after the solstice, something subtle begins to shift. I notice it first in the morning hush. Not brighter, exactly. Just longer by a breath. The afternoon’s shape lingers a little longer before it exhales.
It’s not enough to signal new work, but enough to take notice.
The secret flower fields remain quiet. I press the last of the bulbs in place: to dream of color, and to later fulfill a promise made months ago. Seed trays wait nearby, labeled but as of yet untouched. Their future is written, but held in reserve until the earth shows a clearer signal. The world continues to adjust by the slightest of breaths.
curtains moving gently in winter light
affirmations
Our feathered friends make their first appearance. The crows hold their court; the hawk continues its watch. But now, we’re accompanied by the bright premonition of an eastern bluebird finding its favorite perch among the elms. A cedar waxwing flits by – a fleeting blessing that affirms the bluebird’s presence. Our friends give witness to the moment at hand. A quiet indication of incremental motion.
Sokka keeps vigil from his preferred full length window, assessing the chipmunks resuming their tiny reign of chaos, digging up the bulbs I just planted. Satisfied once their sabotage is complete, he settles into his favorite sunny window seat instead of his usual spot by the hearth. He notices the extra breath of light, just as the Cottage and I do.
sokka at rest in his favorite window seat
observation
I recognize this posture. It’s the space before commitment, when observation takes note of adjustment. Nothing has changed exactly, but everything is aligning, shifting with the smallest calibrations.
This is the stretch of winter that requires patience rather than eagerness.
The Cottage holds this easily. It doesn’t hurry the season or coax it forward. It rests in this moment with our feathered companions, my familiar, and the very earth itself. The recognition of a promise held just beyond the horizon.
quiet interior with brass lamp & insect art
rhythms
The afternoon eases toward evening again. The fauna return to their favored sanctuaries. The Cottage breathes in this rhythm, unchanged and yet not quite the same. Winter is still here, but it has begun to whisper a different melody now.
Some moments ask only to be noticed. Others ask to be kept. I’ll return when the moment changes.
until we meet again – the keeper
Keepsakes that accompany The Written Pages are gathered here. Specially curated for the moment at hand.
Continue exploring the Cottage
the secret garden in increments from the keeper’s diary
