The very best part of winter is the ease with which one can witness a sunrise. Without waking too early one can catch the brilliance of pink shooting across the horizon. I’m a big fan of an easy celebratory vantage, but an explosive dawn right out my east-facing window takes the prize every time. Sure, it’s cold, bone-chillin cold, but that sky is on fire and in that one moment I am fueled to face the day, with all that it might bring.

Daybreak leads most of us into our work day, with commutes that involve cars or trains or busses or for a few lucky ones perhaps a bike. Mine is a short drive that involves several vistas that daily are ridiculously beautiful. The kind of misty mountain bathed in pinky snowy softness pretty that cause you to stop to catch your breath.

Then, there’s the work of the day. Mine is spent in a classroom in a near century old high school building, where just about nothing is typical or predictable, except for time. When the last group of students exit my room, I follow on their heels. On this lucky day, I was joined by two colleagues on the cross-county ski trails that zigzag just beyond the snowy soccer field and iced-over pond and beyond to the woods and neighboring fields.

One can often find a whole team of kiddos racing like a hungry pack all over these woody trails, but today they were prepping for a race, so we had the course to ourselves. The woods were, as they mostly are, lovely, dark and deep. As we slip and slid along the icy tracks our laughter lights up the afternoon clouds and returns all our mirth.

January brings a solitary journey, or at least that is how it feels to me while surrounded by so much white. Both going within to renew oneself and wandering about during this stark season, feed me. That said, I am so grateful to my neighbors who keep their yards lit with cheer. We keep our holidays lights glowing straight into February without shame. Afternoon darkness comes soon enough so any added luster is applaudable.

It is typically dark by the time I arrive home after my work day, especially if I can arrange for a ski or run or swim. But here too I count myself as lucky. Not only do I have an hour or two in the afternoon for myself, but I have a very snug little home to return to after my long day. Most nights I put in a fire, hop into a bubbly tub, and chat with my spouse about the million of events that made up the hours. A day can be like that.

Generally there always something to sort out after our long day. We try to make time to chat about what is most pressing, but we also acknowledge that some topics need morning to think through and are not fit for end of day. Leaving a few items in the basket until another dawn is generally good advice, which we remind ourselves. Topics like what’s for dinner? are certainly a must, and as this is January, we are directing our food consumption back to lots of veggies and lean protein. Trimming where we can.

Tonight it’s chicken tacos. Sloppy and absolutely delicious.

In actuality a day is small moments strung together by time. But the reality is so much more because it is the living it that truly matters. Hope your day includes a few opportunities for you to feel that.