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My life is a series of times I
forget and times I remember how important nature really is. The time I forget
most often is winter. Everything is one color and it's gosh-darn cold here in
Michigan.
I'm sitting right now with my
feet hanging over the creek in the woods back of our house. They are just a
small woods, but still beautiful. The sun is beginning to go down, though not
to set, and all the light is golden. The snow is new and thick. It sparkles
silver under the sun. Shadows, long and grey, give an effect like it is a
dream.
The creek is slow, as it always
is. The bottom brown and muddy. Snow-capped rocks and small boulders sprinkle
themselves along it and as it runs it twists and turns around the banks.
At times, the snow slopes down to
meet the water, and at others it falls straight like a cliff. Where they meet,
the water runs along an icy border it has made for itself, as silver as the
sparkles in the snow.
As sunlight ripples and reflects
off the water it dances on the banks--the only sign of life here in the woods
today. Not a breath is seen but my own, and the only sound is the occasional
creaking of branches overhead.
Mr. Moon peeks in from between
bare branches, too anxious to wait his turn in the sky. There are no clouds
above, but in the creek a few float along--ice formed clouds of snow fallen
from the banks.
And now I leave. I am frozen as
well. Bless the Lord and Praise Him for His works are Marvelous--I know that
full well.
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Be blessed.
