To me, winter is stunningly beautiful.

Crystaline. Clear. Brought down to the bare bones. Fresh starts and traces of stories to be told.

Trees show their skeletons, stripped bare of the leaves that festoon them all summer long. Now, on a cold day, I can see the variety of shapes, the patterns of twigs, the golden ratio of trunk to branch. I can see all the hidden beauty that is overshadowed on those shady summer days.

Fresh snow wipes clean the surface of the ground, covering all and creating a fresh start. Stories get told in the paw prints left behind. Was this a fox? Or two? Was it trotting by when it heard the sound of a blind mole beneath the surface, when it circled back to pounce? Did a friend come to join in the feast? Or to gloat, “Hah! You missed another!” And did the snowboarder scare them off or slide through when the drama had long since passed.
These things leave me in awe and filled with Winter-Love!
xo,
Amy

Amy contemplates fall foliage

One thing I miss about living in New England is the fall colors. Luckily, I got my fix on a recent trip back east and this beautiful fall sampler is of my time in Prince Edward County, Ontario.
From a purely scientific standpoint, this display of colors comes from nothing more than the reduction of chlorophyll in the leaves, revealing the underlying pigments that have been there all along. It’s a sign of the end of growing season. But from an imaginal standpoint, these trees are so much more. This year, their flamboyance spoke to me of fortitude in the face of loss, of celebration even at the last hurrah, and their vulnerable boldness said, “Look! Right here, right now, there is still so much joy to be had! Don’t be afraid.” Like big old red-lipsticked drag queens, their flamboyance gives me courage.
What are the fall leaves saying to you?