Break time is over

Today I must attend to the driveway snow I took a holiday from yesterday. The penalty of it is large patches of hard ice I'm unable to get up. I hope the sun, later, will melt it off without turning it into black ice making it into the possibility of a dangerous fall. I walk aware of my every step. This round of forgot to put on my gloves and had to return to the house after only 15 minutes, and a good deal of shoveling, to unthaw them. I'm making good progress despite the ice.

The big gray squirrel was sitting in the pan and stayed there eating as long as I didn't move from the porch. When I did he jumped out and quickly returned for just a few more bites. They are getting quite used to me and I am recognizing their individuality. Besides Pesky, I have named one Peeker because he's always spying on me. The big one I have named Gutsy because he is the most unafraid and bold his actions. There are more unnamed as yet. The one with the torn ear, whom I seldom see, is Shredder. He looks like a real scrapper. They truly are sources of constant amusement.

The sky forecasts a sunny day and my son and his families contemplating a visit if the roads are safe enough I miss my children and grandchildren look forward to seeing them but to not want them to put themselves at risk.

The icicle refractions are back, giving an appearance of starbursts through the window. Another storm is predicted for tomorrow when my neighbors will be making their way oh. I wish them a safe journey. They will call me for a weather report.

I try to live each day as a soul experience, welcoming the gifts that it brings, to see the blessings of beauty and gathering strength through activity and to exercise my brain as well as my body and to be in a conscious state of awareness. To not rush through the day but to savor the moment, concentrating on the now instead of dwelling on the pastor being in anticipation of the future and thus missing the gift this moment brings.

I found the blue scarf the neighbor lost. It was peeking out of the berm across the road. I have retrieved it until we meet again as I do not know where he lives. I put it out where he can find only to discover someone is brought it to my door.

The snow tracks tell stories of passings we have not personally seen but are still a witness to, like spirit invisible but imprinted nonetheless.

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