Posted on

The Dead of Winter

It is interesting that the “dead” of winter provides the most beautiful and open landscape. The fallow fields can now be traversed in all directions and we are not confined to the cut and maintained trails. I can unhook the leash on my black terrier and watch her thrill and throng through the golden grass. Oh how I wish I could describe the enchantment that winter light holds within my soul, how freely and softy the light moves through the humble wood and sets the brush a fire. I will gladly pause from the season of green growth to have this light and space.

The death of a loved one or the end of a season in ones life is never easy, but if we allow ourselves the time and space to walk through winter fields there can open for us a beautiful clarity and freedom. The air is thin and cold, and stings the face, but  the light is  soft  and there is space for hope to dwell.

1/3/2018

Posted on

Kansas

The last hour of winter light is resting on the Kansas prairie. The blowing grass is the color of honey with a tinge of red. The trees are gray and empty, huddled in small clusters where the land is broken. The silver sky hangs low and heavy except for a narrow blue opening on the Western horizon. The fields roll endless as far as eye can see. The boys and I are on our way to Colorado and we’ve been driving for over 12 hours. It’s 2 degrees outside and wind is buffeting the car in gusts. I can’t imagine the early settlers trying to carve out a living here. How did they endure the harsh weather of the open plain? Why did they sacrifice so much for freedom and a piece of land to call their own?

The boys are plugged deep into their electronics and I can see their mini screens flickering images against the window as we fly through this empty land at 90 miles per hour. It will take eight hours to traverse Kansas, and while some would say a boring grind, there is also a rich stillness and peace in the plains.

Sent from my iPhone