Today I awoke to a white wonderland again, soft flakes falling, then a sound I mistook for rain but instead it was snow like miniature hail falling fast and hard on the deck. There is a cold wind that kicks up its heels and bangs the rockers against the boards and temporarily turns my blood to ice.
The thick screen of clouds shrouds the top part of the mountains like netting over a baby's bassinet and I feel very near to God as if He has reached His hand down to replace what has melted off too soon and reinstate winter that had never really gone, only paused for a few days as if nature held its breath and has now exhaled in a powerful gasp.
And so, I too, remind myself to slow down and just breathe. To make conscious contact with all that I see, hear, feel, and to acknowledge God is at work in the world around me. For the first time in days I hear the sound of the snow plow down the hill and feel the crunch of fresh snow under my feet.
It is time to dig out my long johns out again, the double socks and my boots. I will wait for the snow to let up, as well as the winds, before I attempt to shovel away the growing mound of winter. For the moment I'm lost in awe of the beauty that is nature and her rhythm of the seasons.
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