Winter is coming. I felt the warm breezes shift to cold winds on a recent vacation in the highlands of Virginia, enjoying the warm mineral baths and spas for a self-care experience with my sister. And though my drive there treated me to the spectacular splendor of autumn in the Appalachian Mountains, the seasons had advanced to the point that, between our warm and cozy experiences, we had to deal with biting winter winds.
When I returned a week later to the valley at home, the winter winds had reached there as well. Leaves had fallen and left the hills stark with white tree trunks, and the mornings that had been foggy and damp before I left are now crisp with frost. My windchimes are overworked, and the winds whistle through crevices and corners.
‘Tis the season to prepare for hibernation.
I’m old enough now that I have spent half my working career working from home, and the other half working out and about. Now home-based again, when seasons turn cold, I am always grateful that I don’t have to get up and defrost my car, shovel snow, or venture out in the brisk early mornings.
I rarely venture out. This time of year, facing the holidays and hibernation, I try to imagine how many others out there are like me, who head to town once a month, perhaps twice a month, or not for months on end. Happy hermits stocking the wood stove, or baking bread, or stirring a soup pot.
“Homebodies” is a term I once saw used to describe those who are happiest at home and thus stay there. “Introverts” is another common term; some might even use the word “pariah” to refer to those who have been shunned into hermitage. Others use the word “homebound” for those who would go out if they could.
I try to imagine the hermits in the area, the ones for whom “running errands” counts as a social outing, who, by mere need to resupply, emerge from their seclusion. Remote workers, homesteaders, senior citizens, homeschoolers, happy hermits in their version of a hobbit home.
I no longer “hover” or “doomscroll” on social media like I once did. I check it once or twice a day and move on. But there is where I see other hermits check in, sharing current projects or daily deeds or dinners. Somehow, there’s a connection, across hills and hollers, even amongst strangers who are happily piddle-farting around their home space, only checking on the world at will.
I don’t think I could carry the daily social weights of the world right now. Don’t know if I can remain sane as we have progressed from beyond ridiculous, beyond surreal, into this dystopian insanity we’re calling civilization lately. Don’t know if I could, on an ongoing daily basis, refrain from occasionally calling people idiots and hypocrites or just plain ignorant.
Vapid is a good word too - it means “offering nothing that is stimulating or challenging.”
No, it’s best I just stay at home. It’s cozy here, and I have all my things.
Happy hibernation. I’m all set.
Are you a hermit, too? Happiest at home? How often do you socialize? Is there a club for us that never meets? Let me know.
Did a holler stint up Leafbank Run. We walked 31/2 miles to Grantsville. Homeplace is in Stumptown.