Yesterday morning when I looked outside at our terrace, there was a fresh layer of snow covering my angel wings from the day before. To me, it always looks so inviting – snow completely untouched – and I once again had the urge to go out barefoot. This time I decided to have my cup of tea on the lawn so that I could ground properly, reconnecting with the earth.
It had snowed all night, the snow on the lawn being way deeper than I had imagined, but wow, was it cool to have my feet completely submerged! I slowly sipped my tea – very good tea by the way, from Kränku on the island of Gotland (the island where I was born) – and I stood there on the grass until my feet got seriously cold, prickly and highly uncomfortable, willing me to get out of the cold and into the warmth of the house.
My first instinct was to head inside, so I started moving toward the house. But halfway there I thought, no, let’s see (or rather feel) what happens if I stay in the snow just a little bit longer, despite the cold and the discomfort. So I stayed, but now on the snow covered terrace (which was just as cold, just not quite as deep). And I was fine. And my feet were fine. Yes they were cold, but not unbearably so.
I did go inside eventually – feet REALLY cold now – brushed the damp off of them, and was about to put woollen socks on to get them warm. But again I thought, hang on, let’s see how they do on their own. And guess what. I went about my daily routine and forgot about my feet, realising a short while later that they were really warm and I had not even thought about them being cold. Talk about adapting to the temperatures – how cool is that!