I wake up to a white, white world again. Today there is a wind that tries to reach into your bones and freeze the marrow. But the overwhelming feeling is of the beauty I see: The icicles clinging to the branches like crystal Christmas ornaments with white patches of snow in small and large groupings.
The snow has frozen because of a drop in temperature so each step you take resounds with a crackling echo. The sky, now gray, is filling with a power soon to be unleashed on the hills, the trees, the roofs, the countryside and the roads as a shroud of wonderful winter whiteness.
The birds and squirrels are now coming closer to the house to find food. Out my front door I can watch the small brown squirrel balanced perfectly on his hind legs, his front paws cupped to his face as he cracks open endless sunflower seeds. The many variety of birds hare hopping along the deck picking up seeds as they fall pan as Mr. Squirrel searches for those seeds that have not already been shelled. He can be quite messy about it.
My feet are warm in my boots and double stockings and my long johns hugging my body like a second skin, under my outerwear helps insulate me against the cold. It is too beautiful to stay a prisoner to the indoors but good to be out in the elements experiencing all seasons and the unique beauty each holds. Each day is like a story unfolding, not in words but in beauty, scene by scene.
Clouds part and give us glimpses of sky or sun. At other times they hang heavy, pregnant with anticipation of what is to be releases from the heavens to earth. The flakes sparkling like angel dust as they descend. Only a power of greatness could create such intricate beauty, such a variety of splendor from gold and russet leaves, blowing in the wind, to rain drops falling like God’s tears to allow the Earth a sweet drink and in the winter, where those of us blessed enough to live, a serene quiet whiteness. Hills of pines and oaks and the footprints left in the snow, memories of those who pass through this life.
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