Sometimes the barrenness and deadness of winter gets to me. In the gray and brown bleakness it can seem that all beauty and life has faded from the world. The daylight shortens, the cold sets in, the life and bounty of summer shrivel into shades of brown, crisp papers carrying forgotten stories. And the winds blow the weightless shreds away.
And what is underneath are the skeletons. They have their own stories to tell. They have their own beauty to proclaim. From a distance and from a quick scan, it all looks like death. You have to look harder, listen closer. Slow down and draw near to really see.
Sometimes it’s good to just go out and search for it, to see in order to remember:
There is beauty here. There is life here, contained, ready to combust. There is hope here.