The word in a newsletter from her CSA is “Farmers”, but her weary eyes see “What do Femmes do in Winter?”
We knit, we plan, we foment revolution.
We shovel snow in some parts of the world; in others, we plant our gardens and fan ourselves with that pretty fan from Japan someone gave us, the one that still smells a bit like sandalwood incense.
We read to our babies, to ourselves, to our butches. We chop firewood. We deal with frozen pipes. We bake.
We travel to the library, a play, a movie. We brave the weather to get to a friend’s birthday party, leaving our boots at the door ‘cause we brought our bunny slippers with us.
We deal with crises, we maintain, we get silly, we take long, hot baths.
Femmes in winter store up strength and knowledge and love so that when spring comes, we can peel off a few layers and let the sap rise.
Every Monday (or Tuesday), I offer a Meditation for Queer Femmes, in the spirit of my maternal grandmother, Mimi, who was a fabulous straight femme, and from whom I inherited her Meditations for Women.
The Total Femme 