That is what January feels like to me.  Cozy.

In my mind, January is full of gray days, cold temperatures, warm sweaters, and soft blankets.

It’s my time to put away decorations and de-clutter, to curl up with a good book and warm mug, to watch snowflakes descend from an endless white sky, as if they appeared by magic and listen to them land, like a butterfly.

From what I’ve read the word cozy is from Scottish or Scandinavian origin, early 1700s, koselig, meaning to enjoy oneself.
I like that, to enjoy oneself.

I love the holidays and I definitely enjoy myself but they are a lot of work – buying and wrapping and decorating and baking and attending and hosting and cooking, cooking, cooking. And then dishes and cleaning and laundry and more mouths around the house to feed because little ones and others are not working or off of school.  I told my husband I needed a break from the break.

Which brings me back to January. A lot of people don’t like this month but I do.  A time to enjoy oneself, to be cozy, to de-clutter and re-group, to be present. It’s a lot of grays and blues and whites, it’s soft around the edges and clean.  It’s still. 

Because February is about thinking ahead, to Spring Break and summer vacations and camps and time off of school.

So January? That’s just for me. I read books while drinking my morning coffee. I plant African violets and put them on my kitchen windowsill. I buy magazines and curl up. I watch movies and I play games with my kids. We draw and build and photograph. I bake and try new recipes and cook and drink wine. We feed birds and chase squirrels and “hunker down” as my dad used to say.

Cozy.
January.
A time to enjoy oneself.
I love it.  Do you?