In New Zealand, the month of January* brings with it a degree of liberation. January has a lightness of burden that comes with the departure of the previous year, along with all the negatives that arose with it. There’s a relief that the year is over, and so too is the busy Christmas season that – as much as I enjoy it – comes with obligations and duties as well. The sense of relaxation that the year proper doesn’t really begin until February, delivers the freedom that this is a time of limbo when we can step away from our normal lives, and do whatever we want.
It brings an often unfamiliar warmth with it that is wrapped in promise; the promise of summer fun, of beaches and ice-creams and nature walks, of chilled wine and drinks on the deck, and barbecues with friends and family. The warmth brings freedom too, from extra layers of clothing, from huddling inside, from the need for heat. It’s a time when we wear carefree clothes, and thrust open our windows to the summer air and its scents. Our shoulders drop, our necks lengthen, our backs straighten and we stand tall.
In my city, January brings a beauty only matched by September’s kowhai blossoms, starting with the pohutukawa flowers in the first week or two. Long gone in its native environments to the north, the New Year in Wellington sees red trees everywhere. As you know, they lighten my heart and make me smile and exclaim with joy. As they fade, the agapanthus blue flowers burst forth. Hated by conservationists, as they are native to Africa and are therefore an invasive species here, they have been much-loved by the city’s gardeners. Hence, they are ubiquitous throughout the city, including my own garden, inherited from the previous owners. Their blue flowers, like the pohutukawa’s red blossoms, are a welcome shock of beauty in this evergreen town filled with native plants.
As the year in front of us stretches out as yet unspoiled, January delivers a sense of hope for new opportunities. This January was the first time in several years I have been able to embrace this feeling, and as February arrives, it hasn’t yet dissipated. It is, I have to say, very welcome. And as the year passes and opportunities fail to manifest and inevitably the sense of promise fades, the warm memories will linger.
* Inspired by Kim’s beautiful piece on January in the frozen north.
Absolutely gorgeous meditation on January. It does feel like a new beginning and some freedom after the holidays. I’m truly reveling in your description of the flowers – those sound beautiful.
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I know I’m repeating myself but it’s so funny/strange to read about a January that is so very different from the one I/we just experienced! What a wonderfully complex world we live in! 🙂
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January brings forth a lot of hope and fresh feelings. Much like opening a new book, isn’t it? Loved reading your thoughts. 🙂
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“Shoulders drop, necks lengthen…” words to remember as I hunch under my parka.
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Lovely, lovely, lovely! I will think about this as I stand in the half-frozen mudpit that is my back yard, and wipe up muddy dog prints off the floors! It’s milder here this week, and the thaw has mucked everything up, but the other night a suicidal moth flitted about the outside flood light, and there was one hopeless mosquito (dead by my hand). Enjoy your glorious summer!
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“Our shoulders drop, our necks lengthen, our backs straighten and we stand tall.” Perfection. I wish you a wonderful year, a beautiful season. (I wish I would catch up on reading blogs!)
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Wonderful! I am going to print this and read it every January.
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Yes: “And as the year passes and opportunities fail to manifest and inevitably the sense of promise fades…”
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