In the depths of winter, I find reassurance in the quiet patience and dormant life of a pine cone. Its sturdy symmetry is comforting. Drawing gives me the opportunity to observe its ragged regularities and geometric modulations with keen attention. Somewhere between a rock and a flower, its scales are sturdier than petals. Easier, I find, to keep track of. They aren’t shy about taking up space.
Pine cones, when fresh, harbour winged seeds within their scales. Most of the ones on my bookshelf have long since shed their seeds, though if I look closely I can find a few hiding deep within the cone. If I put one in a bowl of water, its scales will close as it protects its seeds from the damp, inhospitable conditions. If I put it somewhere warm and dry, it will open again.
Respecting my own rhythms of dormancy and engagement is not easy. I have needed lots of rest this winter. So be it. The miracle of homeostasis continues deep beneath the surface.
There’s a time to rock out and a time to recover. We can rest assured that some serious rocking out occurred over the last year. Playing with the band at the Great Barn Festival, the Jericho Tavern, and Mrs Henderson’s were an utter delight. Also delightful was the opportunity to lead a songwriting workshop at Willowbrook Farm, not to mention banging a drum for the Whirly Band on May Morning. The Sometimes Band even managed to squeeze in some recording in November. I look forward to sharing the fruits of our labour in the fullness of time.
But for now, let’s sit tight. May we, like the pine cone, protect our nascent treasures from hostile conditions with a firm grasp. And when the weather clears – which it will – let us open and relax, sharing our creative offerings with confidence and abandon.
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