D eliberately or circumstantially, we are somewhat locked away, and an Island winter is a great equalizer, so one’s nature determines how it plays out. For those who relish inspiration from society and prefer external direction provided by entertainments and infusions of energy, the Island in winter is somewhat a bore, or worse . . . an easy path to the land of poor choices.

But for others, self-starters with hearty spirits, winter is a sensual treasure. We have the time to enjoy neighborly visits, social gatherings, and learning opportunities and projects.

Rural people keep the seasonal calendar compartmentalized within and for those who cherish long-term projects, winter spreads her arms wide, offering time for manifesting ideas spawned who knows when. The patience necessary to nurture such an endeavor is one of life’s great gifts.

January is joy in any rural setting as it heralds the arrival by mail of the seed catalogs; the vines and berries, fruits, flowers, and vegetables, pictured succulent and alluring, get folks to planning — on paper or in the mind’s eye. The hard work of gardening, for the family or the farmer, is, for the moment, relegated to the future while colorful daydreams fill a cozy place in the day.

The quilters are piecing together chromatic slices into something completely new. Pie bakers and cooks are testing new recipes and perfecting the old. Spinners are carding and spinning, and planning projects. Weavers are devising tapestries and tossing the shuttle in soothing rhythm.

Woodworkers are hewing and planing, and sanding the perfect curve. Painters are executing scenes real and imagined while potters fashion clay to fill a function or sculpt a whimsy. Photographers are capturing something fleeting and exquisite on the soft edge of light.

The languid evenings of winter enhance the care and feeding of the creative spirit and its manifestations spun first from gossamer. Islanders keep in mind the “long view,” for during the season’s stillness, the careful watering of seeded dreams may bring ribbons at the fair.

This essay and photograph are published in the book Martha’s Vineyard Now and Zen by Oak Bluffs writer and storyteller Susan Klein and West Tisbury photographer Alan Brigish. Taken from the chapter in the book titled The Fairness of Winter, they appear here with permission. The book can be purchased at Island bookstores or at mv-zen.com.