Winter holds a clean, quiet, and almost sacred place in my heart. The fragility of a snowflake, the gentleness of snow flurries, and the discovery of beauty in the midst of gray and cold hold intrigue for me. Despite the discomfort of shoveling snow, freezing fingertips, uncertain steps, and snarled traffic, I find a longing and a calling to go to a place of quiet hush where the snowflakes catch my lashes, the cold air catches my breath, and the songbird sings despite the winter drab and chill. Maybe that is why the sunrise and sunsets seem much more brilliant, the blue of the sky on sun-filled days much more intense, and the warmth of the sun so welcomed. Life is like this season and I am looking and listening for the One who created all of it and authored redemption in all of our seasons.
It is the life of the crystal, the architect of the flake, the fire of the frost, the soul of the sunbeam. This crisp winter air is full of it. ~John Burroughs,