Snowfall is playing peekaboo with us, leaving a surprise dusting in the morning that melts away by evening. The lakes lie partially covered by ice, tempting my kayak just to try it, just one more time, before the water is completely cloaked in her winter blanket. My snow shoes await their re-christening, leaned in a corner with freshly-loaned-to-me poles. It’s a time of transition as one season melts into another.
Life echoes nature. I, too, await new adventures in a sparkling, renewed landscape. I march on with the days towards an eventual twilight. Each morning, the sun rises on both the mundane and the vast realm of possibility. It sets on daily tasks and dreams half-glimpsed. Stars appear, glinting in a murky depth far away, almost close enough to touch.
Amidst it all, the Wisdom of Ages settles on my shoulders, whispering in my ear:
“This is beauty. This is mystery. It is knowing and wondering and hoping, feeling the tug of limitless possibility, the depth of truest loving, the simultaneous realization of your smallness in the universe and your great worth in my eyes.
This is the visual, breathe-it-in-deep definition of priceless, incredible, glistening creation.
This is the treasure of my heart.
This, my darling, is you.”