For all the white stuff deposited here this winter, our weariness of the season and all its trappings, there are pleasing bits of gnarly magic poking out of the snow here and there, remnants of last summer, its vibrant coloration and fragrance.
The dried fronds, wands and seed heads coming back into the light of day have curving, sinuous shapes and just a hint of the vibrant hues they once wore, powerful suggestions that it is not just the season that is "getting old", but those of us who stand about in dwindling snowdrifts and bear witness to its passing.
Our all-too-human perceptions totter, wither, fade and take on strange shapes in late winter, and we need reminders of the earth's own wonder, magic and infinite change, in this case a desiccated strand of common tansy with flowing arty curves against a background of deep blue snow.
2 comments:
Yes. Yes. Yes. ♥
We have innate belief that tomorrow will come, that it will be wonderful. If not, we just stop. With each breath there is hope. Breathe deep, and again. Slow and deep and time keeps on coming into our being.
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