The simplicity of winter has a deep moral. The return of Nature, after such a career of splendor and prodigality, to habits so simple and austere, is not lost either upon the head or the heart. It is the philosopher coming back from the banquet and the wine to a cup of water and a crust of bread.
~John Burroughs, The Snow-Walkers
I wake from a dream in which I was gardening and, oddly, I am not filled with a longing to return.
For now, the memory is sweet; the anticipation, pleasing.
For now, it is still winter, the season of rest, and it is well.