I usually struggle a lot emotionally during winter. Which is strange, because winter is probably my second favorite season (honestly, it’s a close tie for second between winter and summer). I love the snow. I don’t mind the cold, so long as it’s either snowing or not pouring down rain. But I definitely struggle with winter because the things I most love to do to help manage my mental health (namely, be out in nature) are extremely difficult to do in winter. Ice, rain, floods, etc. make it difficult for me to go to the places I want to go, and do the things I want to do.

However, there are always little surprises I find in winter that remind me that I can make beautiful memories without needing to go for a five mile hike. Sometimes these surprises happen in my own home.

Like last night. The weekend was rough for me. The Prosac I’m on has been giving me some pretty severe night sweats. They come and go, but sometimes they can last for three or four nights at a time, which makes me feel so sticky and gross. It makes the bedsheets feel clammy. And it usually means I wake up feeling a little like I’m hungover because I’m even more dehydrated than usual. So I didn’t actually feel “good” until about 6:30pm last night. I got up to make an easy dinner and as I was cooking, I felt something tickle the back of my leg. (I was wearing pajama shorts.) I turned and looked down and reflexively went to swipe it off the back of my leg; in the past when I’ve felt something like this, it’s usually been because a flea was on me.

But I had to stop myself from swiping my leg because it wasn’t a flea.

It was a jumping spider.

I gasped and said, “Oh, hi beautiful!” I put my finger down in front of her and she climbed into my hand without any hesitation. I watched her for a few moments and decided to put her outside. If I hadn’t been cooking, I probably would have studied her a bit more because I really love spiders. I walked out the front door and gently put her on the ground. She jumped towards me, but missed my hand. I chuckled and went back inside and shut the door, my mood significantly lifted from what I had been feeling most of the day.

I’ve had several connections with spiders over the last year and a half. In fact, there are a few different creatures that I pay attention to when I see them: spiders, bees (especially bumble bees), deer, coyotes, hummingbirds, whales, and foxes. I’ve had more than one special encounter with each of these creatures, and the more they happen, the more I pay attention to them. I feel like they connect me to nature in ways that nothing else does. The only things that come close are trees and snow. I can’t explain my emotional connection to trees or snow, but they’ve been strong in me since I was a kid. I’ve always been a wild, nature pixie.

One of the reasons I like to go hiking so much is because these connections happen more frequently the more often I’m out of doors. I’ve seen hummingbirds in winter, flying around above my head. I’ve seen coyotes at all times of year, running out in front of me when I’m driving. I’ve seen deer up close and personal more often than I can count. Over the summer, bees would buzz around my head and gently press their faces up against my cheeks, and not in the warning way that they warn people they’re close to a hive. And I’ve encountered several different types of spiders who’ve gently crawled across my skin or stayed around me while I was outside. I’ve only seen a fox in real life twice, but I’ve dreamt about them a lot. And whales I (obviously) only experience when I go to the coast, and usually when I go on whale watching tours out on the ocean. But I’ve done this several times, and each time has culminated in a beautiful connection with a whale.

I don’t know why I started falling in love with spiders. I used to be terrified of them. But the older I get, the less scared I am. If I find one that’s too big for comfort to keep in the house, I’ll put it outside. As a kid, I’d have had my dad kill them. But I can’t stomach that anymore. Now, I do what I can to take in the moment and appreciate that I’m sharing space with another living being. It’s really a form of magic.