It's a pj's kind of a day.

After a great struggle between the sun, mounting storm clouds and a raw north wind, the promise of a bright day has diminished into a cold, damp and dark cave with little contrast between now-barren branches and the sky.

I'm hunkered down in my big comfy chair looking at the birds outside my window who are feeding feverishly on thistle seed. Because my living quarters are in the basement, the bottom of the window is nearly flush with the ground, which gives me a great vantage point from which to observe creation.

Although winter has not officially arrived, today feels like the familiar gray days of winters past. Since my psyche is susceptible to the lack of sunshine, I'll move upstairs and park myself in front of the fireplace, working, reading and writing in the warmest and most well lit room at the Retreat Center.

This time of year puts me in a reflective state of mind. I'm not sure what it will produce, but I feel something churning inside me that's part melancholy, part anticipation and part gratitude.