This morning, there is a brilliant waning moon rising into the cold grey sky. There is fresh whiteness resting on the earth in the garden and a frozen pool of glassy water in the heart of the ice rimed birdbath - there is a light snap and a crackling as the birds dance from twig to brittle twig among the shrubberies and do a little chilled Easter singing of their own to greet the day.Yesterday there was a storm in the woods in Lanark, but I wandered in the dank cold for an hour or two, filled with relief and humble gratitude for Barb's deliverance from la segadora (the reaper), with a grizzled head full of wintry Easter thoughts and the camera carefully shielded from the falling snow. After only a few clicks, my fingers were turning as blue as the creek at my feet, and back into the heavy gloves they went.
Strange imagery for Easter weekend perhaps, but this is the way my part of this perfect little blue planet usually looks on Easter weekend. Somewhere below the ice in my hidden woodland clearing, there was water running free and singing a doxology - I could hear it yesterday, and the flow is still percolating in my thoughts this Easter morning.
Yes indeed, there is rising, and there is light here among the icicles and the snow.
1 comment:
Thank you for this beautiful post. You capture the knowing movement, the slow waking, the subtlest of changes. I saw the moon this morning at about 3:45 a.m. The light must have woken me up. There was a planet or a bright star above it.
This morning I marvel at the unquestionable truth of nature.
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