Still, Silent Snow

Patches of wet sticky snow on the grass, the deck and the blackberry brambles as the sky begins to lighten...also in patches of silver, slate and pewter. The morning seems to be holding its breath...it's just so still and muted. Not one car goes by on the road...well, it's Sunday, early and slippery. The tall standing ones, fir, pine, cedar...all are frosted and ready for a Christmas close-up. I'll have to take my camera on a walk later.

A Great Blue Heron just went gliding by with effortless wing-strokes, almost invisible in the grey light. The water in Joe's Bay is at high tide...and looks such a deep teal against all the softened colours around its edges. The water's undulation and the birds catching air currents or orbiting around feeders gives the morning some movement.

In just one week it will be the Full-Tilt Boogie...the Long Night of Stories....the Solstice of Winter....Yule. A moment of stillness and then we begin our journey's wobble back again...the endless rhythms of our lives and our planet in a great symphony of Creation and Being. The path or religion doesn't matter to the rhythms and we are notes, playing across the score and telling our stories into the darkness receiving.

A faint pink blush appears over the ridge, on the underbelly of the clouds' quilt. Goldfinches dart about like bits of escaped sunshine and the lighter green of the Scotch Broom shows as the day comes on. Oooh! Flashes of bright red and yellow on black...the Redwing Blackbirds have come in chorus to sing this Sunday into being.

I love this early time in the morning to centre myself within the greater movement...and the greater stillness from which we came.