Winter’s Morn

Days like today, I’m glad I live where I do, and with who I do.

Get up, stretch. Shiver, turn up the heater. Wrap in a bathrobe, tie it around. Visit the bathroom, wander into the kitchen. Heat a snack, pour a drink.

Look outside.

See the grass and needles on the trees tipped in ice. The rising sun filters through the trees at an angle and hits the ice in such a way as to color it both gray and rainbow at the same time. The gravel is a dusty black, sharp points poking through the layer of frost to make tiny mountains, bugs clambering up them to get across the expanse of driveway.

Back downstairs.

Turn on some music. Plan some art, get a bit of work done, figure out what reading needs to be done today.

Bask in the beauty of life, a beauty that I so often miss for the hurry scurry of daily events, a beauty that is so subtle and so in-your-face at the same time that it takes your breath away.


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