|Our thermometer on our deck, January 10, 2016. Photo by J. Berta.|
It's January in Iowa. December's "mild" weather is over, replaced with the wrath that is January. The last few days have been brutally cold. In the warm weather, we enjoy the breeze. Now, we curse the gale that blows hard against us.
Darkness comes too soon. The sun surrenders to the horizon without putting up a fight. The few leaves left on the trees are without life.
And yet, and yet..
In the winter, there is beauty. If you can get past the cold. It is there.
It is there when the sun rises. You're awake when its crests the ridge.
It it there when the sun sets, too early, yet a little later than a month before.
It is there when the dog and I walk on my bike path and see the ice icicles frozen against the side of the creek bed, something I shall never see most any other day.
It is there when the snow falls, wrapping in white all the world, or at least as much of the world as I see.
And I suppose that is all of the world that matters.
Such is the privilege of my life.
Here's to winter...and in praise of its frozen beauty.
Be well my friends,