Friday Ramble - Adrift in Winter Mind

Ice, hoarfrost and snow are everywhere on the trailing edges of a calendar year, and eyes and camera linger lovingly on it all. We are spending much of our time indoors at the moment, but it is astonishing what can be seen right from one's window on a winter morning in December.

Frost glosses trees in the village and sparkles on our window panes at first light.  Here and there, ice forms cornices and dangles in artless suspension from eaves, roof lines and wind chimes. As glossy as hard candy, it sheathes roads, driveways and cobblestones.  When the winter sun touches it, the layers reveal themselves as lacy blankets draped over streets, sleeping hills and fields, crystalline fronds of grass and ferns poking out. Lovely stuff, ice, whether seen in an urban setting or glittering on branches in the snow-drowned countryside.

Whole worlds cavort and hum within icicles, and there is elemental wisdom in their shapes and their transparent suspension.  Once in a while I wake up and get the message, but it doesn't happen nearly often enough. Effortless grace and form and natural perfection are everywhere if we will only cultivate the eyes and attention to see them.

Everything around us has a story to tell, and tales from the trailing edges, liminal intervals and seasonal turnings of our lives help us to learn and grow, to exercise the wonder and connection that is our birthright. All this simply from contemplating icicles dangling outside the kitchen window? I am adrift in winter mind, and it happens every year around this time.

Winter's fruitful darkness is a doorway through which we pass to ready ourselves for an exuberant blooming somewhere up the trail. Beyond these dark turnings at the postern of the old calendar year, light, warmth and wonder await us.