What ever it is, it can’t happen now….

Daily writing prompt

Do you play in your daily life? What says “playtime” to you?

View all responses

Today’s WordPress prompt asks, Do you play in your daily life? What says “playtime” to you? And the minute I read it, I realized why winter and I have never been friends.

For me, playtime has always been tied directly to warmth. Not toys. Not games. Not organized fun. Just being outside with the sun on my face and time slowing down enough to enjoy it. My idea of play has never involved schedules or scorecards. It involves weather.

Give me a warm day and suddenly I’m ten years old again. A fishing rod leaning against a chair, even if nothing’s biting. Digging in the garden with dirt under my fingernails and absolutely no urgency to finish. Walking through a flea market with a bad cup of coffee, looking for something I didn’t know I needed until I saw it. Sitting on a beach doing nothing productive at all, which somehow feels incredibly productive. Ice cream that melts faster than you can eat it. Sunlight that makes everything feel just a little lighter, including my mood.

That’s play to me.

Winter strips all of that away. The water freezes. The garden sleeps. Flea markets shut down or move indoors and lose their soul. Ice cream turns into something you eat standing in front of the freezer instead of outside on a bench. Even the sun feels different in winter, weaker, like it’s just punching the clock.

I’ve tried to like winter. I really have. I’ve told myself it’s quieter, more reflective, a time to rest. But the truth is, most of the things that make me feel playful, relaxed, and genuinely happy are seasonal, and winter cancels them without apology.

I don’t “play” by sitting still inside for months. I don’t recharge by staring out a window waiting for spring. My version of play is movement without pressure. Wandering without a goal. Doing things that serve no purpose other than they feel good in the moment.

Warm weather gives me permission to do that. Winter feels like a long lecture where recess never comes.

So when someone asks me what says “playtime,” I don’t think of board games or hobbies or planned fun. I think of sunshine. I think of bare hands in the dirt, water lapping at a dock, the hum of people walking past tables at a flea market, the simple joy of being outside without layers, gloves, or excuses.

Playtime, for me, is summer energy. And winter is just the waiting room.