I have never liked February. As a child of the north, I have only known it to be that relentlessly bitter month that drags out what could have been a picturesque winter with snowy roofs sparkling with strings of icicle lights. I’m sure that if you could see a record of my college absences, they would all be in February; I would rather turn the thermostat all the way up and stay nestled into my stuffy dorm room then risk frost bite by walking 200 feet to class. February is also home to the most exploitative and aesthetically displeasing holiday in the calendar.
However, this February, my second in the south, has been far more pleasant than any other in my memory. My partner and I, like millions of other Valentine’s Day saps, have fallen in love; we’ve been house hunting for months and have found that perfect little nest. Even though we’ve only just begun the process, and know that it could fall through like wet plaster at any moment, we’ve still begun to emotionally move ourselves in to test if this space is really the one that fosters our lifestyle.
For example, I’ve already [mentally] piled blankets next to the woodstove. That would be my seating of choice to listen to the banjo.
February is also home of International Crepe Day. If you missed it, since it was yesterday, then I suggest you celebrate it for the rest of the month. Make them yourself, or even better, get someone that you share a symbiotic relationship with (mother, sister, or partner) to make them for you. Serve them on trays and platters on the living room floor in the sunny spot. Try savory crepes with avocados and olives and crumbs of almonds. Then try sweet crepes with strawberries and cream or nutella and powdered sugar. Eat them with tea or wine.
Being just the beginning of February, and already the birds are singing in the morning and I can eat my potatoes outside, I have high hopes for the rest of this month.
