Solitary
Even though winter has set in I still try to get in an
afternoon walk, just to get some fresh air.
Some days, like today, the air is really fresh, helped by a stiff
westerly wind that was cold enough to numb my cheeks as I walked into it. There is nothing fickle about winter, so I
was confident that the wind would blow out of that direction the rest of the afternoon. The walk would get warmer when I turned for
home.
I crossed the county road and walked past the big wetland
area. Just weeks ago, the marsh area was
alive with geese and mallards and even flocks of diving ducks that settled in
here for a rest rather than out on the open water of the Bay where it had
probably been too rough to allow for good sleeping in between flights
south.
Now everything is still and silent, except when a wind
gust rattles through the high, stiff marsh grass. The muskrat house is locked in the ice and
covered with snow. The almost
ever-present steel gray clouds ride that west wind in search of tomorrow’s
sunrise.
Winter is a solitary season. The quiet invites contemplation without
distraction. It is a time for deep
thinking. Prayer can be especially
fruitful as we move at a slower, quieter pace.
It is a good time to be alone with yourself and see what makes you
comfortable and what does not. Try to be
still for some time with each of them.
One would think (wrongly) that the marsh is lifeless without any
sight of wing or note of song. The
blanket of fresh snow that covers the marsh is mostly undisturbed. From my vantage point I can see just one single
set of tracks where a fox passed by the muskrat den, probably the night before.
On the western edge of the horizon, the clouds have
broken just wide enough to let through the last slanting rays of the sinking
sun. There is a brief burst of golden
light that the clouds quickly swallow again.
My tingling fingers inspire me to turn homeward. I was right – it is better with the wind to my
back.
His Peace <><
Deacon Dan
Photo by Mihail Macri on Unsplash
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