Flickr Favourites: February 22, 2015

{Vogue August 1942 ~ Amara}  


{Sparkling Silver ~ Joy Russell}  


{1954 winter fashion-skirt suit 2 ~ Mo}  


{February 1940, Jeanette MacDonald ~ Amy Jeanne}  


{Avondale Fabrics, February 1949 ~ The Bees Knees Daily}  


{Vintage winter ~ Svenia Schreiner}  


{Miss Marzie Brown - 2 ~ LLF archives2}  


{Our Siberian Husky Mishka, loving the snow! ~ Sheila Bobeldijk}  


{1951 ~ File Photo}  


{Coeds Enjoy Winter ~ University of Wisconsin-Madison Archives}  

{All images above are from Flickr. To learn more about a specific image, please click on its title to be taken to its respective Flickr page.}

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Does serenity have a colour? A season? A language all its own? I think that the answer to each of those questions is a resounding “yes!”. However, what classifies as such for me, may not be the same for you. The experiences you've lived, the part of the world you call home, the things that bring you peace, and myriad other elements will all factor in there.

I believe that serenity can be found in every season, though some, such as winter, do lend themselves more so to this powerful state of mind and being. February often gets a rather bad rap. Though the shortest month of the year, it can at times feel like the longest, and for many it's the last full month of winter weather, which makes us yearn for it to just be done and over with all the more.

Here in Canada, we're apt to experience wintry weather and temperatures until April (and for some, especially in more northerly locations, until May), but nevertheless, that almost palpable sense of longing for energetic new blooms, citrine hued sunshine, and open toed shoes start to kick in right about now all the same.

This is perfectly normal and okay, of course, but if even you're feeling “so done with winter” already, I encourage to stop and savour the ingrained serenity that February delivers all the same. There is a peaceful beauty to the way the world looks, smells and feels on a bracingly chilly winter's eve, just as there is to its colour palette of steely greys, powerful whites, gentle blues, and weathered browns.

As much as you may pine for spring and summer, take a moment and think about the last time you were melting faster than a crayon on hot pavement in July, when the whole world felt dizzyingly alive, pulsating with sticky electricity, and tell me you wouldn't have happily swapped at least one night of sleeping in front of the fan, in little more than your birthday suit, covers long kicked to the floor, for the chance to take a quiet walk in the snow on a frosting February morn?

It is human nature to want what we can't have and to long for the idyllic elements of life, but as we must take the seasons as they are dished out to us (save, of course, for hopping on a plan and embarking on a holiday somewhere warm, or conversely, chilly) and serve our spirits well by enjoying the best that each has to offer. Even if doing so can, admittedly, be a bit tricky when you're shoveling the driveway for the seventy-ninth consecutive day in a row or piling on so many layers you could practically stand on a street corner, undress, and have your own pop up clothing shop.

Do I miss summer? You better believe it, but I also long for certain aspects of winter, when June, July and August are here, so for now I'm content to put up with snow chains, steep heating bills, and short hours of daylight in order to enjoy and savour those elements of the season that I know I'll yearn for when I'm practically boiling on the beach in a sundress in half a year's time. Chief amongst which will always be, the immensely lovely serenity and stillness of winter.