It must be hard to follow the vivacious and charming month which is December. My heart truly goes out to poor January, but I am not sad to see her go. Have always pictured her as the uptight school marm with the ruler in her icy fingers, and bleakness in her eyes. Depressing picture, no? Yet, I have hope. One of these years she will loosen her hair, add color to her pale cheeks and discover a deep and rich sense of humor(a new holiday could possible help!). Until then, we must press on and endure the icy winds, plummeting temperatures, and endless resolutions to be better. Finding that the written word often leaves me comforted I leave you with the words of the French philosopher, Jean-Paul Sartre, "To read a poem in January is as lovely as to go for a walk in June." I think I will dig out Shel Silverstein, snuggle with my children and 'go for a walk.'
I really liked the personification of Winter. I have a cousin named Winter. She doesn't have icy fingers though.
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