There was a time when I would bemoan the onset of January because that meant, all festivals and holidays were over and we would have to wait atleast another 9 months for the next set of celebrations. However with time comes perspective and January, I realize need not necessarily equate to end of joy; for joy is where you find it and you do not need much to to find it either! So here we are, on the first day of the year, celebrating January
“January is here, with eyes that keenly glow,
A frost-mailed warrior
striding a shadowy steed of snow.”
― Edgar Fawcett
“Bare branches of each tree
on this chilly January morn
look so cold so forlorn.
Gray skies dip ever so low
left from yesterday’s dusting of snow.
Yet in the heart of each tree
waiting for each who wait to see
new life as warm sun and breeze will blow,
like magic, unlock springs sap to flow,
buds, new leaves, then blooms will grow.”
― Nelda Hartmann, January Morn
“To read a poem in January is as lovely as to go for a walk in June.” ― Jean-Paul Sartre
“The first day of January always presents to my mind a train of very solemn and important reflections and a question more easily asked than answered frequently occurs viz: How have I improved the past year and with [what] good intentions do I view the dawn of its successor?” ―Charlotte Brontë
“I love beginnings. If I were in charge of calendars, every day would be January 1.” ―Jerry Spinelli
“Leaving any bookstore is hard . . . especially on a day in January, when the wind is blowing, the ice is treacherous, and the books inside seem to gather together in colorful warmth.” ―Jane Smiley
Tapped at my door today.
And said, “Put on your winter wraps,
And come outdoors to play.”
Is always full of fun;
Until the set of sun.
Will stay a month with me
And we will have such jolly times –
Just come along and see.”
– Winifred C. Marshall, January
Janus am I; oldest of potentates;
Forward I look, and backward, and below
I count, as god of avenues and gates,
The years that through my portals come and go.
I block the roads, and drift the fields with snow;
I chase the wild-fowl from the frozen fen;
My frosts congeal the rivers in their flow,
My fires light up the hearths and hearts of me
– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, A Poet’s Calendar
So what does January mean to you?