Some parts of the earth are governed by weather. Birthdays fall during calving and weddings are planned around harvest. Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter don't mean much. Rain gauge's, the blistering sun, and a chinook arch are a bit more weighty. The coffee shop full of the mood of farmer's hinge on weather.
I've come to realize more and more our seasons here, however they are measured, are to be treasured. As much as I hold the days that will soon know only a short amount of sun at arm's length, I know each one is a gift! We can't complain about the snowfall and in the same breath be grateful for the day we are here.
At the risk of sounding like a broken record, more and more I'm taking cues from the little rotter's that patrol around this house. Seeing snowfall was about as exciting as gracing the gates of Disneyworld.
"It snowed lots and lots! Let's go out there! Let's make tracks, throw snowballs, make snow bears....COME ON, Momma."
So, the pulling out of snow pants, boots and coats left a huge mess in my back entrance. It was almost photo worthy, but at the same time I didn't want to immortalize that look. Four seconds of, "Could you please find a pair of mittens?" resulted in a huge bin of winter gear being emptied.
|Petie, you are given the name of Auntie. You have saved tiny ears for two seasons now.|
Now, join me, this year, instead of being fearful of the weather that's encroaching, embrace it. Every moment you want to get your back up about it, I know I will have many, utter your hallelujah song. Notice the tiny snowflakes, the frost on the glass and take note of the joy in the three year old down the road. Momma's make your first batch of play dough, and neighbour ladies, make a strong cup and sit down to your sewing machine. This is your season, the one you are given today and bow your heart to the grace of the gift.
I'm working on it.