To Everything There is a Season

To everything there is a season,
a time for every purpose under the sun.
------Ecclesiastes 3:1 Fog…. No whisping mist but thick omnipresent, oppressive, soul dampening fog slithering in through the window the moment there is the slightest crack. As daylight struggles to break through the blurred, cataract-like, curtain there is a battle between the darkness and the light.

During the night sleet has fallen - and perhaps some rain, as the birdbaths are full. The sun does not seem to have any chance to prevail until after eight thirty when light begins to permeate the cloud of fog. Moisture drips from the trees. Drip. Drip. Drip. Snow is melting in the woods, dripping from the trees, the housetops, melting everywhere but the stairs and the drive. The fog hangs heavily over the clearing, dampening my spirits. The grayness creeps into my mind and I feel sad and isolated.

The fog alone is not responsible for my triste. A friend invited me to lunch… I went out to clear the snow off the steps… It has turned to ice. For now, I am snowed in --- housebound. I spread sand and ice-melt on the stairs but it seems to simply sit in place. I whack at it with the wide end of a pick and spread more ice-melt; then slog out through the crusted snow, ice and drip to fill the bird feeders. I am one with the dampening fog.The sun continues its struggle to break through and there is a glimmer of light.
Temperature climbs to thirty-five degrees - a glimmer of hope.
The ice-melt still isn’t melting the ice on the stairs. I whack some more and finally a few pieces of ice begin to break loose from the treads of the stairway.

The sun manages to break out of its swaddling of fog. Rich blue sky, billowy clouds erupt like opening fresh tubes of paint. Sense of hope and renewed vision of possibilities is born.

From the monochrome of early morning to the vivid green and gold of mid-day, my spirits also brighten and begin to glow with joy in the energizing light. I am still snowed in yet there is more color in my thoughts, a freshening of my creative spirit; I look with anticipation at fresh white paper, sharp pencils and a box of watercolors.

The wind picks up, the sky again darkens, a short burst of rain, a few flakes of snow, yet my spirit has been renewed and I move to enjoy the opportunity; challenge and possibilities that this day offers.

I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the
landscape - the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter.
Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show.
- Andrew Wyeth