Still Winter or Almost Spring

  Sometime after the New Year begins, I spend almost the entirety of winter complaining. Either it is too cold or too wet or spring is too far away. Consequently, I hate winter. One might think I hate winter because I complain, but like most things in life, it is really the other way around. The heat can be just as uncomfortable as the cold, but I always find a way to see the bright side of summertime.

  Winter is the time for sweaters and hot chocolate, both of which I love dearly. Christmas comes during the winter, as does the new year and my birthday. During the night frosty stars shine in the velvet black sky. The limbs of trees are revealed, fantastic twists of gray and brown. The dampness feeds the earth for the coming of spring. Winter is the season of rest, of waiting. A season rich with delights of anticipation. And the anticipation is never disappointed.

  When the waiting watchfulness of winter passes away and spring comes from the ground and rippling water and the scales of tree buds, it again stuns us with the wonder of life anew. So now I am learning to wait in the still of winter, now that it is almost spring.