Sunday, January 15, 2012

Watching and Waiting for Winter

"Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire:  it is the time for home." (Edith Sitwell)

First things first.  Thanks to all my friends who've sent me kind thoughts and sympathies after reading yesterday's entry about the passing of Buddy.  What you shared with me warmed and comforted me.  I wrote what was in my heart, to both honor Buddy and what he had given me, and also to help me let go of him.  Life, growth, death, happiness, sadness are all just part of the wheel of Life - a cycle we all are a part of.  I also was helped by this excerpt from an article I read this morning from Guy Finley:

Grief has a natural place in our lives. The heart is a beautiful and eternal creature whose wisdom transcends the mind that tries to work its way out of sorrow.  Just as there are seasons on this earth that include the repose and rest of winter, so is there a natural winter of the heart. It is our responsibility to become self-knowing enough -- self aware enough -- not only to recognize the beauty of these seasons of the heart, but to embrace them for the naturally healing, naturally renewing seasons that they are. Sorrow is one of the seasons that we must let run its course.

Just as there are seasons on the Earth, there are seasons in our lives, seasons within our hearts.  There are times when we are green and growing, ripe and fresh; sunny and full of brightness and energy.  And then there are times when we are dry and crisp; dormant and gray; cold and shivering in the dark.  And just as each of the seasons during the year pass, so will these seasons within us, if we work to let them.  To not hold on to the spring of  fresh hopes and plans, or the summer of happy memories - nor to hold on to the autumn of disappointments or unexpected challenges, or the winter of our sorrows and solitude.  It's always good to remember that all of these seasons come and go, inside and outside of ourselves - and if we let them pass, something new can be born.

I loved this little poem.  It summed up beautifully this promise of newness and life within what seems to be cold and dead.

Of winter's lifeless world each tree
Now seems a perfect part;
Yet each one holds summer's secret
Deep down within its heart.
(Charles G. Stater)

Sorrow has run its course.  Time to move on.

But I'm still waiting on that real winter around here.  Still
waiting for some serious snow around here.  Saw a tiny dusting
of it this morning, but nothing like what we had 5 years ago, as
you can see in the picture.

I want snow.  Serious, heavy, "crunch when you walk in it" snow.
Big, fat, flurries of flakes.  White soft blankets of snow, the kind
that make everything look clean and quiet the world like a
celestial librarian..."Shhhh!"

And what would I do with that snow?

I wouldn't throw it or blow it; shred it or sled it.  I wouldn't feel driven to ski, nor would I leap to luge.

I'd be happy just sitting and watching it.  Watching it paint the world all whispery and white.

I hope it comes soon.  No matter how old you are, there's still something exciting about a "snow day" (that is, if you don't have to go to work!)

Izzy and I will be waiting!

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