With temperatures soaring into the 90s here in South Texas, seems like a strange time to mull about winter projects doesn’t it? When I moved into the new apartment, I yet again recombined several boxes of loose photographs carried forward through the years and thought, “sorting and culling these photos into albums would make a great winter’s project.”
It’s been years since I’ve used that phrase. While growing up in various northern climes I remember having projects I found to do in the summer, but not in lieu of romping in the sunshine or cruising around the neighborhood. Such tasks were then labeled “winter projects,” a project put on hold until snow storms stranded us inside for days on end with little to do. I’d then remember back to fairer days and recall those albums I wanted to catalog, or the box of postage stamps to sort and hinge into albums. And so I’d spend a delightful couple of days snowed in, happily working away on my winter project.
I’ve never lost the habit of seeing some tasks as good winter projects, yet the term has long lost the same meaning and portend it held when I lived in the winter snow worlds of Chicago or Boston. It’s no secret that I’d love to live in snow country again (so long as I didn’t actually have to commute in the stuff and could earn a living at home), and so I think I’ll keep alive the tradition of labeling less-than-important tasks as “winter projects.” Perhaps one day I’ll look out my study window onto fresh fallen snow and realize I’m house-bound for days, then nostalgically declare, “it’s time to work on that winter project.” Not a bad thought to hold on to, especially now when reality is a 96-degree sauna just seconds on the other side of my front door.