Fallow Season
January reflections
“The beginning is a very delicate time ...” – Dune
I do not enjoy January, or rather the chill damp which is so pervasive at this time of year is very trying on my poor body. It is not the dark, I rather enjoy pulling the curtains and curling up. It is not the cold, at least when the water in the puddles has frozen. While Britain as a land of mists and fog may be a gift to romatically inclined poets, in reality at this time of year there is a damp chill which settles into your bones and no amount of clothing or blankets seem enough. I suppose from a certain perspective I am fortunate I don't need to leave the house and can remain tucked up. This damp chill increases my pain and drains my energy, so it is hardly suprising that since the beginning of December I have only left the house once.
Why do we begin a new year in January? When you pause and ponder for a minute there is no reason for choosing any particular date, indeed we did not always start a new year in January. There are many examples of calendars in use today, and more across history, where a different point was chosen. The choice of January to begin the year was made by Juilius Ceasar in 45BC, one more item on the list of “what have the Romans ever done for us”. Historically in England the new year began on the 25th of March (Lady Day) once one of the old quarter days. Our tax year still starts on the 6th April, being the adjustment for the 11 days when the UK switched to the Gregorian Calendar in 1750.
None of which was what I originally intending to write, forgive the brief tangent.
I was attempting, in a circuitous manner, to say that there is no logical reason to assume than because it is a given month in the year it is a suitable time for planning or making changes. Winter has always been, even before ME/CFS enforced it, my time for hibernation. It is a fallow season, where gentleness is the main order of business. I find that this somnolent time is necessary for future creativity. For new life to take root the soil has to be prepared, the old deadwood pruned away, ready for when the conditions are propitious for planting.
One job I assigned myself this month was to work on finishing up a number of books I had part-read. My “currently reading” pile was looking too high. I prefer not to read too many books at the same time, partly to save my memory. This isn’t always what happens in practice, What I am able to read onagiven day is dependent on my available energy. for instance, familiar topics or books I have previously read require significantly less energy than the new. A novel I read at bedtime might not be suitable reading material for when I've woken up again at 4am in pain, it also has to be an ereader book as I can't turn the light on. I have assumed that four books is the most that Ishould ever be reading at the same time. I started 2026 with ten! This month I have reduced that down to seven.
If you follow me on Instagram you may have seen that I have also been progressing with my sewing and knitting projects. As with my reading 2025 saw a proliferation of half finished projects, while none of these have actually been finished off, as yet, beeing able to make small, consitstent progress has kept these moving along. The project Iam most pleased with is my dressing gown. A challenging sew, more for the physicality of managing such a large quantity of fabric than for the complexity of the pattern. It is now ready to be hemmed, having been on my dressferm for the past few weeks waiting for the chem to drop. dly husband has brightened the screws in my hem Marker so now there is nothing standing between me and my cosy dressing gown of my dreams, apart from the usual energy issues.
As I look out on the patch of snowdrops Ican see from the sofa, I am reminded that we all need our fallow periods, they are good for the soul and body. I hope you also find time to rest and renew yourselves.
