From the editor
I think we may have finally turned a corner.
The temperature reached the mid-forties yesterday. That may not seem so great. But with the sun shining and little to no wind, it felt almost luxurious — the kind of afternoon that invites you out for “just a quick walk,” around the block or even along the Boardwalk.
For a moment, the sun felt different. Softer. Warmer. The air no longer stung my skin.
There’s still snow piled stubbornly along the edges of parking lots. Patches of ice linger in the shadows. Winter hasn’t released its grip. But something has shifted. The daylight stretches a little longer. The breeze doesn’t cut quite as sharply. Emotionally, at least, it feels like we’ve rounded a corner.
This winter has been a tough one. Brutally cold. Relentless wind. The kind that seeps through coats, into your bones — and even, into our moods. Cabin fever feels very real this time of year. So as I found myself quietly celebrating 45 degrees, I realized something else: I have a brand-new appreciation for the milder winters we’ve had in recent years.
You know the ones. Those January and February days that hovered in the high 40s, sometimes even the low 50s. At the time though, I probably complained. Too gray. Too damp. Still winter. I likely wished it away, eager for spring.
Isn’t it strange how we rarely recognize comfort while we’re living in it?
We notice extremes. We react to discomfort. It’s something to talk about. But steady, ordinary ease often goes uncelebrated.
It’s human nature, I suppose. We adapt quickly to what feels good, and then our attention shifts to what’s missing. We normalize comfort and fixate on inconvenience.
Our health works the same way. For many of us, most days of the year, nothing hurts. We move through our routines without giving a second thought to our knees, backs, or shoulders. We climb stairs. We carry groceries. We sit, stand and bend without a thought.
But on the occasional day when something aches, it consumes our focus. For me, it’s often my knee. Suddenly, that knee becomes the center of my universe. I rotate ice and heat like it’s my job to nurture it back to health. I reach for anti-inflammatories. I wince with each step and calculate every movement.
And on the many days when it doesn’t hurt? I barely acknowledge it. “What knee?” I think — when perhaps I should be whispering, “Thank you, knee.”
The absence of pain is a quiet gift. Just like a mild winter day.
This season has reminded me how easy it is to overlook steady blessings — manageable temperatures, uneventful weeks, the simple ability to move through life without discomfort. We tend to reserve our gratitude for the dramatic: the big breakthrough, the first truly warm day of spring, the long-awaited good news from a doctor.
But maybe the real practice is learning to appreciate the in-between.
The 45-degree afternoon.
The pain-free Tuesday.
The ordinary, uneventful week.
Maybe turning a corner isn’t always about dramatic change. Sometimes it’s about perspective.
Sometimes it’s realizing that what once felt unremarkable was actually a gift.
As we inch closer to spring, I’m trying to hold onto that awareness. To notice subtle improvements. To celebrate small shifts in light and temperature. To give thanks for what feels steady and stable instead of waiting for perfection.
There will always be seasons that test us. There will be cold snaps and setbacks, unexpected aches and inconvenient storms. But between those harder moments are countless quiet comforts — days that simply work. Bodies that simply function.
If this winter has taught me anything, it’s not to rush past those ordinary days. They may not feel extraordinary.
But they are gifts all the same.
Here’s to warmer breezes ahead — and to appreciating them while they’re here.
Peace & Love, Cindy
