Stick Season

I'd never heard the phrase "stick season" until about a month ago, despite a cumulative 7 years now of living in Vermont. I think it really describes beautifully that long, held breath between the end of fall and the beginning of winter.

After a few early wintry days with overnight lows in the single digits or below zero, we're back in proper fall weather: 30s during the day, fog in the valleys, and bare trees (hence the "stick) outlined against gray skies.

Part of me hates this weather; it is, after all, cold and wet and gray and dreary. It's too cold to really spend a lot of time outside, but too warm to really dig in to winter activities.

But part of me loves the feel of nature on hold, paused, and mustering energy for its next big show. My favorite stories are origin stories, and I love that glimpse of normal life we get before the hero's world is changed forever because it feels like setting a baseline.

It's stick season for me at work right now, too, and I'm trying to translate that calm new baseline to my horse work as well: getting into some better habits by spending just a few minutes cleaning tack, or organizing my trunk, or picking through his tail each visit, so when it's so cold I can hardly breathe I'll have that rhythm down.

Here's to the calm before the storm.