It begins with shortened days. Darkest night by dinner time. Air so cold you can see your breath; frosted window panes. Bare tree limbs. Bluebirds on my feeder. A bright red blur as the Cardinal takes flight into the tree. Quiet mornings as the Earth comes to life. My morning coffee in hand as I witness all of it.
Stillness and light. I think of wintering in this way.
Winter knows how to
Angie Weiland-crosby
hush,
still,
listen,
so the soul can
speak.
I look for the light differently in winter. I watch the glimmers turn ice and snow into crystals…mesmerizing. I listen for the crunch of my footsteps on the ground. I watch my breath in swirl in the crisp air. I appreciate the sunlight in a new way. I try to listen deeply.
As the world churns and spins, I lean toward stillness and the beauty of wintering. Hope.