#winter – Ladies of Mystery

December is chaotic here on the south shore of Lake Ontario in New York state, but in a good way. It’s busy and a lot of fun, but by New Year’s Day we’re exhausted and ready for some quiet time. The season starts the weekend after Thanksgiving, but then the entire month is filled with parties, shopping flings, festivals, gift exchanges, impromptu gatherings, and food – lots, and lots of food – both the cooking and eating of it.

Decorating is big up here, and although we don’t do much of that, just a little festive touch or two both in-and-outside our house, many friends and neighbors go full bore, hoping to win or place in a contest sponsored by our Neighborhood Association for the best outdoor decorating. And many of them do. Frankly, it’s quite impressive, and more than a little magical.

Now it’s January. The decorations have been stored away for another year, the snowbirds who flew north for the holiday have migrated south again to spend the rest of the winter in warmer, sunnier climes. The days are a bit longer, and while that’s certainly good news, they’re a bit grayer, too, and there’s more chance of snow. While we loved the hustle and bustle of the previous month, we breathe a sigh of relief.

We greet our like-minded neighbors when we walk each morning, but other than the roar of the waves crashing on the beach or the sound of the wind, it’s quiet. A couple restaurants and almost all the shops have closed until spring, and there’s not much traffic, hardly a vehicle to be seen traversing through our streets.

Now our gatherings are small ones: intimate dinners with friends at the restaurants that remain open; a pot of soup or chili with a small group at our house on a Sunday evening; a ladies’ night out; or for my husband, the regathering of his summer golf group for lunch and playtime at a virtual, indoor facility. I happily resume my yoga classes. We venture to the city to take advantage of the cultural offerings there: a symphony; a Broadway show presented by a traveling touring company; or special exhibits at museums and galleries.

I’d been making good progress with the fourth book of my cozy series, but during December that project was mostly put on hold. This is the month when I commit to moving forward with my writing, and have been spending at least part of each day expanding the story as I continue with the first draft. Then, later in the afternoon, I read, fire burning in the fireplace, a cup of tea in hand.

Some friends and family who don’t live where we do wonder how we manage during this time of quiet and isolation, with weather that’s fickle and can change in a minute or two. For us it’s a time of centering and peacefulness, and it’s very beautiful with white caps on the water, grey skies intermittently clearing for brilliant blue and bright sun, starry nights, and a landscape dotted with wheat, rust, faded green and brown. Because many of the trees are barren of leaves, I can see the lake and bay and the tops of the two lighthouses that flank each end of our village beach from several rooms in our house.

By March, we’ll be ready for a change and begin to search for signs of spring: daffodils peaking above the thawing ground; buds starting to swell on trees and bushes; a greening of the grass. But for now, we’re enjoying the peace that follows chaos.

A member of Crime Writers’ Association of the UK ( CWA), North America chapter, Karen Shughart is the author of the Edmund DeCleryk cozy mystery series, published by Cozy Cat Press, including the award-winning Murder at Freedom Hill. All books have historical backstories that provide clues to why the crime was committed, and recipes at the end. They are available in Kindle, Kindle Unlimited, paperback, and Audible.

When I was growing up, we lived within walking distance to a large, public park. Our local recreation department held a Twelfth Night bonfire where families brought their Christmas trees and, as we watched the dazzling flames light up the night, we sang seasonal songs and drank hot chocolate.

After a snowfall, my friends and I would drag our sleds to a large estate at the end of our block that had been willed to the city and was now part of that park. The mansion had been transformed into an art gallery, but the grounds were perfect for sledding. We’d form a chain and with our feet moving forward in tandem, push our sleds off the top of a bluff down a steep hill to the bottom. We shrieked with laughter, sometimes tumbling in a heap before we landed, and when we were chilled to the bone, we trudged home for steaming hot chocolate and cookies.

Around that same time, I discovered a series of books that were set on Lake Superior, and while the author and the titles completely escape me, I remember vividly that most of the books were set in winter, the main characters a family whose lives centered around outdoor activities near the ice-encrusted lake. I was completely enchanted.

When my own children were young, their friends would convene at our house after a snowfall and make snow angels and build snow forts in our backyard, laughing and chattering until they, too, were chilled to the bone. Then they’d all waddle into our mudroom to remove their boots and wet jackets, snow pants, scarves, and mittens, and like my mother before me, I’d serve hot chocolate and cookies.

A few years ago, at the end of the summer, my husband and I took a cruise to the Canadian Maritime Provinces and Greenland. You’d probably not be surprised to learn that my favorite part of the trip was Greenland, where the temperature was in the 30s and 40s, and we were walking around wearing down jackets and mittens in early September. I loved the starkness of the landscape and the view from the shore of small icebergs brightening the dark sea with brilliant light.

I have thought often what it is about winter that I find so compelling, enough so that in retirement we moved north rather than south. We now live in a village on Lake Ontario, where the winters can be cold and and snow-covered for at least several weeks or months during the season.

There are complex reasons, I am certain: as an introvert I like settling in with a crackling fire in the fireplace, to read books, a warming cup of tea in hand. I enjoy cooking comfort meals, walking or snowshoeing in the snow, and meeting friends at cozy pubs that in summer months are filled with happy, noisy tourists. And I’m thrilled when I catch a glimpse of ice boats gliding across our bay.

Winter is a time for reflection, too, and a time when I give myself permission to just be without having to purposely shut out the extraneous noise and activity that’s so much a part of my life during other seasons.. It’s also when I am most productive with my writing, and quietude and solitude recharge my weary body and soul.

Karen Shughart is the author of the Edmund DeCleryk Cozy mystery series. Her third book, Murder at Freedom Hill, was released in November.