The Space Between

dropping in to say hello 👋

Hi, it’s me. Technically I’m on a writing break to spend the holidays with my family, but a beautiful song shuffled into my playlist and I wanted to share it with you. More on that below.

I’m writing to you from a quiet getaway on Whidbey Island, just North of Seattle. Part of the romance of living in the dreary Pacific Northwest is that some of the best getaway destinations require a dramatic crossing over gray, choppy waters to an island with tall pines and craggy cliffs. We’re only about 45 minutes from home as the crow flies, but once we push away from the dock and the ferry’s wake churns up the sea behind us, I can finally inhale the salty air and exhale the city.

The view from our car on a boat.

I never pay attention to the weather forecast here. Why would I when every day is described by the words fog, drizzle, or rain? I dress in layers and wear a rain jacket, which is usually enough.

Until this week on Whidbey Island, when I woke up to a delightful blanket of snow at first light:

Tuesday, December 20th.

You’re reading this a week later, by the way. The snow has probably already melted. But this brings me to the song I discovered via the Spotify algorithm. Have a listen below — via YouTube or Spotify:

I’ve always loved the space between Christmas and the New Year, and I’ve been fortunate enough in my career that I can take the time off work to rest, reflect, and spend time with my family.

The tune sways lazily, as if it, too, is enjoying tea on the couch while looking out over the winter garden, a sleepy cat nearby. These lyrics in particular stood out to me:

Each year we learn

More what it means

To bless the space that’s in between

We bless the space that’s in between

We bless the seeds under the snow

We bless the patience, take it slow

We bless the limits, bless the tears

We bless the failures that brought us here

Our garden, February 2021.

As a gardener, I’m deeply connected to the work of seeds under the snow. Many seeds won’t germinate without first going through a cold stratification process over the winter — they die and freeze before they thaw and germinate life, resurrecting in the Spring. In between death and life we wait, reflect on last season’s successes, make adjustments to account for our failures, and plan for what to grow next year.

(Are we still talking about gardening?)

Anyway, wherever you are, I hope you’re enjoying the space between. See you in the new year.

Until next time,

Jen