Now and then in the month of January we get a day which feels like a real bonus. Despite the cold, the sun is clear and high in the sky making it look as soft as lake water. The tree trunks seem to glow in the light and the pond across the way dances with a hundred misty colours.
The birds are happy. They flit with lighter wing somehow . . . from branch to branch . . . from hedgerow to feeder . . . their bodies puffed up and round . . . as they hop along the ground and frosted blades of grass, the world looking for all as if it someone has gone mad with the icing sugar and dusted every surface. Perfectly delightful.
Mitzie sniffs at the back door . . . her breath coming in great gulps. I wonder what it is that she smells. I open the door and she bounds out and across the patio to the gate, barking madly as she goes, tail wagging back and forth . . . I can see nothing out there that would require such excitement and fervor . . . it always amazes me when just a few moments later a neighborhood cat slinks out from beneath the hedge row . . . gives a languid stretch and a haughty glance and then lazily saunters across the yard in it's exit, as if to tease. They know that she is unable to pass the gate and really give them chase . . .
They annoy me.
I call the garden the Quiet garden on such a day . . . even in it's spent waste it looks beautiful . . . frozen branch and brown leaf . . . crystalline blades of last summer's bull rushes rise from the glassed over surface of our pond. 'Tis only a thin layer . . . but it adds to the magic.
The sun which glints on every frosted surface, leaf and petal is so tempting despite its lack of warmth. One almost wants to sit out in the garden and eat . . . a candy coated picnic . . . perhaps. But alas . . . we know the chairs would be far too cold and so instead we settle for trays . . . indoors by the fire, quietly enjoying this gem of a day together indoors.
I suddenly want to take a drive . . . to get away along a country road, and so . . . we do. We wind around the wintery country roads, up hill and down winding lane, past frozen fields and hedgerows . . . and grey stone fences, glinting here and there with a sheath of ice, the light from the sun intensifying the little bit of color there is . . . reds are redder . . . whites whiter . . . greens greener . . . the browns of thicket and meadow touched with a rosy tinge . . .
Those brave enough to wander about are huddled beneath their heavy coats . . . all mittened and scarved . . . their breath puffing and huffing in bursts of white cloud, as they hurry along . . . white clouds too unfurl from the top of chimney pots adorning snug farmhouses . . . beckoning . . . welcoming . . . The air smells like ice and woodsmoke . . . and frozen greenery.
A day like this is exciting . . . a gift . . . a small jewel set in the silver band of winter . . . and we are grateful for the magic which it brings.
I hope you enjoyed this winter journey with me. I surely enjoyed musing upon what was a beautiful day yesterday, cold, clear and just plain special.
A thought to carry with you as you go about your Wednesday . . .
“Everything in the gospel teaches us that we can change if we need to, that we can be helped if we truly want it, that we can be made whole, whatever the problems of the past.”
~Jeffrey R Holland
Baking in The English Kitchen today . . . warm and tasty Cornmeal Scones! Very easy to make and perfect with a nice hot bowl of soup.
I hope you have a wonderful Wednesday!
No comments:
Post a Comment
Your comments mean the world to me, and while I may not be able to address each one individually, each one is important to me and each one counts. Thanks so much!