Four seasons in just an hour. My boots are almost ten years old. Apparently I dress as if I were too. I did chores in my work clothes today. Glad for the sunshine and warm. I believe in the presence of tiny
miracles mysteries, if only I can hold still enough to see them. The way the water runs through, and where it pools. The focus of the dog when trying to find what she thinks she is looking for under the grass. The strangers who smile back at me in the grocery store (and those who bewilder back at me, too). Finding the language to write a thank you card to the great aunt and uncle I have never met, for a wedding gift I can not keep, because of the vows that didn’t stick. A dear friend who picks up the phone with a quick “Hold on, I’m brushing my teeth!”. Everything is grace. Everything is pivotal, paramount and passing.
Tomorrow the snow will be gone. When the snow is gone, the tiny river will disappear too. Winter’s final bow, exit stage left.
On a whim – or in fear of growing mud or future freezing – I moved the chicken house today. Ten feet by five feet, on wheels, wallowing in mud and snow. I was afraid this winter had softened me, I am glad to know I am still strong. Strong and dirty, just how I like it.