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Photo image from The Farmers Almanac.

If someone told me I would write a blog post like this one, I would have said, “Get the hell out of here!”

The clocks have been turned back, and it’s dark before 5 pm. Everyone is complaining about the dark on Facebook. I used to be one of those complainers. 

This has been a life-changing year for me. I’ve become a person who is more aware of everything around me and appreciates it. 

I look at things with new eyes and perspectives. Thinking I only had 3-5 years to live back in March threw me into a deep depression and gave me a nervous breakdown. 

Thank goodness that was not my prognosis with my type of lung disease, but it made me pause, and with that pause, everything changed.

When I was little, I loved all four of the seasons. Of course, summer was my favorite since school was out, and I could stay out until the street lights came on.

Unfortunately, this summer was a holy hell for me health-wise, as I struggled to breathe during the hot, humid summer. I sweated constantly and had zero energy. Having rain every other day didn’t help.

I always looked forward to fall. It meant I could wear the back-to-school clothes without sweating my ass off. I loved jumping in piles of leaves and Halloween as much as I love it today.

We got married in October because it’s such a pretty time of the year. It’s not too hot or too cold for a wedding. The weather was perfect and produced colorful outdoor wedding photos.

After we moved to Vermont, I began to dread fall every year because I knew a cold, dark winter was right behind it. When we first moved to VT, we loved the winter because we liked skiing and snow tubing. 

After our first winter, the sad truth was even though we lived near three ski mountains, we couldn’t afford to go skiing. We quickly discovered how high the cost of living in Vermont was with low wages.

We lived on rice, oatmeal, and pasta since we had no money, our heating bills were so high, and our place was still cold. Charming but fucking freezing.

Spring was always exciting because things were coming back to life, and summer was approaching. I rejoiced when I could get my bike out again, and my dad started mowing the lawn again.

Here in Vermont, all that changed when we learned about mud and blackfly season. Both were horrible, mainly where we lived up in the mountains. Snow was still on the ground in June.

That brings me to this year. The year that shocked the shit out of me. Perhaps one of the most challenging years for me, maybe the most important one.

I started to notice the things that brought us to Vermont in the first place. I found joy in things and realized VT was a beautiful, quiet place with a simpler lifestyle, which we appreciate.

As I adapted to my new “life” with another disease, I found having to slow down due to breathing issues was a welcome change. I used to go like the energizer bunny from when my feet hit the floor until bedtime.

Now, I don’t enjoy rushing around, period. That includes eating, drinking morning tea, shopping, and running errands.

Marty dug out his union suit the other night.

With my blog posts, I can see the changes occurring slowly. Marty has adapted to our new life as empty nesters and my limitations almost gratefully. We work hard, but we aren’t spring chickens anymore.

As the fall weather came this year, I appreciated the crisp, cool days; I could breathe, and the cool temps felt wonderful. I could smell the leaves and watch them turn color, die, and fall. 

Was that a pun? I never thought of the word fall as something literal. 🤔

After I learned more about the Danish word hygge, which means warm and cozy, I wanted to be warm and cozy and realized I had been living the hygge way for years without knowing it.

For example, when the temperature dropped, I always looked forward to making warm, hearty, comfort food again and stocked up my freezer and pantry for the winter.

I started burning more candles to create a cozy, warm environment. We got our throw blankets and fuzzy slippers out.

In today’s society, when the clocks change, it’s almost like panic hits for people. There is something about the dark that makes people miserable. Of course, seasonal depression is a real thing, but this is about when we turn the clocks back.

People have busy lives and are always out and about with packed schedules. The dark suggests they soon will have to stay indoors and sulk. That was me, folks.

I researched the subject of darkness. I found the farmer’s point of view. Some religious groups consider anything dark as evil. I enjoyed reading about the Celtic perspective and Samhain. I read Wiccans and other subcultures take on the dark season.

I liked the Chinese way of looking at late autumn and winter as the Blue Black time. They say this time of the year is filled with blues, purples, and black. So true. I never thought about that before.

What I got from the research is that they all have a common theme, except for the extreme holy rollers; mind you, they are full of fear and negativity.

Nature dictates the seasons and knows what to do. People for thousands of years have taken nature’s cue. At the end of autumn, when everything dies and rests until spring, they did too. 

During the time of rest, people ate hot and hearty meals. Their root cellars and pantries were stuffed with root vegetables and summer veggies that had been canned.

People were careful they would have enough food and not run out. They welcomed the rest and appreciated slowing down. Candles were lit, books were read, and hobbies were enjoyed.

People make New Year’s resolutions in our time, which is the opposite of what they did a hundred years ago. Maybe this is why people fail miserably every year, sometimes in the first week.

Back then, resolutions waited until spring with time to think about what you wanted to strive for, like planning what would go into garden beds or switching crops.

Today, people don’t know how or may not want to slow down and take winter for what it is. A time of rest. It is a time to appreciate this intimate time of the year and snuggle under blankets, read the book you haven’t had time for, try new recipes, or pick up a hobby.

I am now embracing the dark season. I have my cozy space where I write and draw. It’s where I enjoy my tea in the morning. I have soft lighting, along with a throw blanket and comfy pillows. Klaus loves this spot, too; I have to kick him out often.

My space is away from the television, which is always on and is too much for me. I love YouTube, but there is only so much I can take. In the UK, our back room would be called a snug. The word snug is so fitting for my space.

I am planning and looking forward to Thanksgiving and Christmas. My shopping is done, and my menus are planned. I love cooking during the holidays more than the rest of the year.

These trees are similar to the ones I will be using this Christmas.

Our Christmas tree situation is different with the sassy girl Nelly around. Instead of a big live tree, we are trying something new. Small trees I picked out of the garbage. Another person’s trash is another person’s treasure.

We need simple shatterproof ornaments for sure. I decided to make some of my own Christmas ornaments this year. This hasn’t happened since Noah was little. 

I saw two simple ornaments at Pottery Barn that I loved but were ridiculously expensive. I thought, shit, I can make them myself. I hope it doesn’t turn out to be another Nailed It episode. 😂

Disagree with me all you want about embracing the dark and winter. Hell, I would have before this year 💯 percent.

My goal for this blog post was to try to change your perspective so you can enjoy this natural time of the year like our ancestors did. Maybe people could be less damaging by not hating and despising the next five months.

This post was a lengthy one, and I hope some of you can make a change and embrace it. Consider this song’s lyrics as a good thing, not bad.

“Hello darkness, my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again.” 

It’s happened slowly over time, but the pandemic pushed it over the finish line; I am a homebody. I know, I can’t believe it myself.

There is nothing wrong with being a homebody. As much as I like staying home, I still like small, intimate outings with friends and family. 

I wrote about hygge a couple of months ago, and since then, it’s like I’ve transported myself to a different place.

In case you didn’t read my hygge piece, here’s the word’s definition. It’s pronounced two ways: hoo-ga or hue-ga. That shit below isn’t any help. Lol.

hyg·ge
/ˈho͞oɡə,ˈho͝oɡə/

noun

A quality of coziness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of contentment or well-being (regarded as a defining characteristic of Danish culture).”why not follow the Danish example and bring more hygge into your daily life?”

This weekend has been a perfect example of being cozy as fuck. Marty is away at an EMS conference with Sam, so I’ve had the weekend with Nelly & Klausie. 

I used to be antsy and bored alone, but not anymore. Yes, I miss Marty, but my alone time has been divine.

The cold, rainy, and raw weather provided the backdrop for coziness. I enjoyed the weather from the comforts of our home. 

I didn’t set this weekend up, thinking it would be a hygge weekend since I’ve been living this way this fall. It just happens, and I love it.

I cooked and baked some of my favorite foods: cozy af foods. Again, there was no menu planning; I just ate what I felt. 

Cozy af foods, aka comfort food, fit the bill this weekend. Each item was made with as much love as when I cook for others. 

Delicious food = pleasure for me, even if it is a simple bowl of flagrant steamy rice topped with a pat of butter and a sprinkle of salt. 

So what kind of cozy af food did I make? Food that felt like a big fat hug? 

Friday afternoon, after Marty and Sam left, I made a pumpkin pie, one of those foods that should be made and eaten more than one day a year. 

Friday night, for a late lunch, I made legit fried garlic and rosemary french fries, which are possibly one of my favorite foods that I couldn’t live without. ☘️

After reading a blog post that my friend Maria wrote. On Saturday morning, I recreated a dish her mother made for her. I texted her immediately and told her I couldn’t wait to make it.

She was going to make it also, “It’ll be like we are having breakfast together,” she texted back.

I made a warm bowl of milky rice porridge topped with a pat of butter and a generous sprinkling of cinnamon and sugar. It smelled so good.

You want to talk about a big hug; holy shit, it was so good! I’ll be making this again whenever I have some leftover rice. 

Come to think of it, I may even make rice just for this porridge. I’ve been on a porridge kick using the word and the dish. It’s a seldom-used word that I happen to think sounds cozy af.

Since it was our 34th wedding anniversary yesterday, I thought about what I would order if we went out to eat; yeah, I know we rarely do, but whatever; I was pretending.

Like when I was a kid and always wanted either Italian or Chinese food for my birthday dinner, I chose Italian food: chicken parm and spaghetti, to be exact. 

I get excited whenever I think about chicken parm because it’s another food I couldn’t live without. This meal is definitely a hug for me.

Chicken parm is not the act of making chicken and topping it with sauce and cheese; it’s the loving process of steps that makes it to die for, a true food of love.

I made a small pot of spaghetti sauce and let it simmer all afternoon, which smelled incredible. That familiar smell waifed through the house and was making my mouth water.

After making the sauce, I set up a dredging station and breaded the thin chicken cutlets I pounded the crap out of. I put them on a rack and stuck them in the fridge until dinner. 

This rack trick ensures crispy chicken cutlets since the breading has time to stick to the chicken, and the bottoms don’t get soggy. 

After I fed Nelly and Klaus, I turned on some cooking music, poured myself a glass of red wine, and began making dinner. I filled the kitchen with candles, another one of my favorite things.

We live in an 1832 historical home and love lighting the rooms with candles. I imagine what it must have felt like when the house was a servant’s quarters.

I set the kitchen island with a gorgeous placemat and cloth napkin, just like I do at most of our dinners. Just because I was dining alone, why should it be any different?

This is where Marty and I eat all our meals when it’s just the two of us. It’s a cozy af place to eat rather than the dining room. It’s like eating at a chef’s table, a special place to dine.

I fried the chicken cutlets and made my portion restaurant-style on a professional kitchen firing platter. 

When the spaghetti was almost done, I threw the platter into a hot oven and watched it closely. 

I no longer drain pasta in the sink since I always finish it in a saucepan. I butt the pasta pot up to the saucepan and transfer the pasta without too much of a mess. 

I plated up my meal and sat down to eat. I didn’t feel lonely even though I missed Marty; I felt like I was home, not just a location, but a feeling deep down inside me. 

My meal was delicious! This Jersey girl can cook Italian food like nobody’s business. My meal brought me back to one of my childhood birthday dinners at an Italian restaurant.

Sunday morning, I’m sitting on our loveseat in our back room sipping a cup of Earl Gray tea, another one of my favorite things. Those first few sips of warm tea have been sacred to me since I switched from coffee in February.

This spot in our backroom is my favorite place to write, looking out at the mountains with the light snoring from Nelly and Klaus. Talk about the feeling of contentment and coziness! How hygge!

Marty just texted me saying he missed us. I can’t wait until he and Sam get home tonight. I have a cozy af meal in mind to have waiting for them.