Of sunrise and ice...

Every new morning is like a newborn baby, and I run up and down the house watching this miraculous event unfold—the sun rising upon my windows, the orange blue light resting on sills and doors.  Once again, life awakens to let us know it can never die; never ceases, nothing can detain it, or shadowed it.  It only pauses to give the night time for another homecoming.  For just a moment in time, life may be overcome by darkness, but it will always begin again; renewed, stronger and forever a reminder to humanity of eternity.  And that’s the promise.

Today, my little world woke up in frosty garments; the first true frost of the season.  Trees and rooftops were covered in millions of tiny particles of ice… ices that glowed and shined and twinkled when kissed by the first rays of the morning star.  Now that my life unfolds amidst rooftops, I have another type of vision of my little world, and I can see things I wasn't used to see, and I can see far far away, farther down the horizon where the big mountains have already selected their icy gowns and are now wearing them all day long…

Sunrises and sunsets are a marvelous magical thing around here… they aren’t just any ordinary thing and there isn’t a day or a moment that they won’t mystify me and fill me with magic and joy.  Every color in the landscape ripples fire under the strokes of that sun, and I stand with my heart in my hands, curled around the rim of this magnificent sky daring those colors to set me spinning, like a seed, into the great unknown beyond it… until slowly and meticulously, the day changes into night, almost in front of my eyes. 

I want the final strains of daylight to resonate in my heart and mind (like a horsehair bow drawn eternal and slow across a violin string) as long as possible, past the colors and past silence, but days are fleeting in the Northern Hemisphere, and night comes upon our bones earlier than anticipated.  I am waiting for the return of the sun upon my world and those longer days of my joyfulness.  I can hardly wait to start working in my garden.  Every day I would stand across my windows and search each corner meticulously, each space, each turn in this little piece of land, trying to learn it by memory… to identify what it requires, and what needs to be done there, what does the soil requires, and which bush to trim to the ground and which not?  I shall wait, and I wall enjoy these white days of December to the full, because yes, they bring their own unsurpassable beauty with them.  And I’m learning that I love it too.  Winter, with its mystical white garments of ices.