January started out fresh and new, with crisp snow that made me eager to pull out the cross-country skis. For a while, winter delivered exactly what it promised: bright mornings, clean trails, and a quieter pace. But now, facing another cloudy and cold day, it hits me hard. The wanderlust. 

My remedy is to browse through Paul Theroux’s Deep South and watch romanticized travelmovies such as Under the Tuscan Sun and Eat Pray Love.  I try to hike in the woods, hoping nature will do what it usually does—clear my head and lift my mood. Some days it works. On other days, the same familiar trails feel uninspired, and I turn back sooner than planned. When that happens, I retreat indoors and do what I’ve learned January often requires: I page through travel brochures lingering on sunny, tropical places.

They stir my imagination and stack up in my office like unfinished projects calling to me. It helps to know that the world is bigger than my living room, that new adventures await even when my snow boots stay by the door. I linger over those brochures, letting the photos transport me.

“Explore the Mediterranean,” one brochure urges. “Learn to make pasta during a private cooking lesson in a historic Tuscan castle.”

A Tuscan castle! I linger on how exotic that would be.

Another states, “Experience the warmth of Greek hospitality during a home-hosted visit to a rural farmhouse in Crete.” I picture getting to know a Greek family, sampling the local wine and dipping fresh bread in their famous olive oil. Afterward, I imagine touring the Acropolis in Athens andbreathinge in the sea air while visiting islands surrounded by turquoise waters.

But it’s when I flip to Bike around Holland in springtime that I truly swoon.

“…you’ll cycle easy paths and pass massive fields of blossoms, stopping to learn about the history of tulips, daffodils, and other bulbs at the unique garden museum.”

Three years ago, my husband, brother, sister-in-law, and I had the chance to do a Rhine River cruise and tour the Netherland's famous Keukenhof Tulip Gardens. I’d love to go back. We strolled past a charming windmill and through both formal and casual gardens, filling our noses with the scent of flowers. Cheery birds sang, as if admitting they were the luckiest creatures alive.

Even now, I can close my eyes and see the meandering patterns of color and feel the spring-like breeze on my face. Being able to pull up that memory on dark winter evenings soothes my soul.

And like any good trip, it’s the people—and the laughter—that linger longest. The four of us enjoy retelling how impressive my brother was during "Name That Tune," the ship’s contest to identify artists and song titles. He did so within three seconds of hearing them—and could even do it when the songs were played backward.

We laugh about the moment, while touring the tulip gardens, when I decided to show off by crossing the stepping stones—and promptly fell in. I like to blame my husband, who distracted me by calling out that I should look up for a photo, but my family only adds the memory of how my shoes sloshed for the rest of the afternoon.

My husband and I do have a trip in the works—stay tuned—but I’ve learned wanderlust doesn’t always need a suitcase. Sometimes it’s satisfied by memory, imagination, and the knowledge that more adventures are just ahead.