The Warmth of Winter
It's February, and the snow is heavy everywhere. It would be romantic and wistful to say that I miss my garden; that my heart longs to be potting and puttering and coaxing new life into being.
But the truth is that the snows of this late and lovely winter have not lost their beauty. Beneath this white blanket there lie, dormant, the stirring notions that will be a conceptions, germinations, sprouts, new life and one day new harvest before the return again to the soil and to the quiet warmth of winter.
What is there to miss? Spring breathes in, summer blooms, autumn exhales and winter... winter looks and lives Within. And thus this garden grows, even when no sap flows, when no leaf turns in the wind, and when all is still... life prepares in stillness to live afresh and anew.
But the truth is that the snows of this late and lovely winter have not lost their beauty. Beneath this white blanket there lie, dormant, the stirring notions that will be a conceptions, germinations, sprouts, new life and one day new harvest before the return again to the soil and to the quiet warmth of winter.
What is there to miss? Spring breathes in, summer blooms, autumn exhales and winter... winter looks and lives Within. And thus this garden grows, even when no sap flows, when no leaf turns in the wind, and when all is still... life prepares in stillness to live afresh and anew.
posted by David Newland at 26.2.07
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