No Swimming Today

The temperature was a nippy 14 degrees this morning when I stepped out on the back porch to watch the sun rising behind the trees on the far side of our pond. The light sifting through the trees and casting gleaming streaks across the ice made me catch my breath. It's true - I'm an easy target for being captured by nature's beauty, but the view from the back porch this morning just seemed like the perfect expression of a winter's day, even though there is no snow on the ground. The delicate early morning sunlight showed every little object to its best advantage, right down to the frostiness of the air.



Our river birches were certainly looking their best. Now that all leaves have departed, you can easily see the papery bark on their trunks. That texture really speaks to fiber-oriented people. You just have to step up close and touch those curling shreds, examine the lines and traces on the inside surface, a secret code to decipher.



And how about autumn leaves frozen in the icy water, their colors still dusky for a little while, one last memory of the year's growing season, before they darken and decompose. Some of the leaves this morning were dusted with a sugary frosting.



I'm a four-season person. I love to watch the seasons shift and enjoy the treasures offered by each one. One of my favorite poets, Mary Oliver, seems to spend much time watching these things too. In her poem Messenger from her collection of poems, Thirst, she puts it perfectly -

"Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished."

Best wishes for a beautiful day for all.