Well below freezing this morning and it is a wonderful moment wrapping my aching hands around
a mug of coffee, drinking slowly and feeling the hot liquid warming me inside and out. Physically and spiritually.
It's 4.30 am Dessie has had his first walk and we are now sharing a digestive biscuit and reading Psalm 148 'Praise the Lord, sun and moon, stars and light, snow and mist...' and I add,
'cold and warmth' which I celebrate equally as precious gifts as my freezing breath and the steam from my coffee rise in unison.
My cabin may be cold, but I feel wrapped within its iciness and embrace it as the little heater gently goes to work and slowly infuses warmth into the air and I become something
more. Something precious, something, known, something received, something celebrated.
In that moment, in the silence, mystery opens her arms and embraces all fear and all striving. I recognise her voice. I play her music. I see a lamb leaping as if it were spring. I see a Father smile as a breeze gently rustles the
leaves of ancient trees. I smile too . Believing myself beautiful, perhaps, for the first time?
The lawn we have walked across is alive, partying. Sparkling. A thousand frosty pearls winked at us and sang out their Hallelujah Chorus in silent magnificence. Echoed and swelled by the army of stars -all creation
in a great concerto. A winter symphony, celebratory with cold and darkness, all part of the dance and rhythm . Creatures, huddled in burrows. Birds hanging on needing our early crumbs to sustain them. Soon to sing their hearts out, in spite of the cold. In
spite of their fragile vulnerability. Trees, stark, still, conserve their strength. Conscious of the feathered treasure that rests in their branches.
Traffic on the road in the distance, a faint rumble, the only clue that others are awake and on their way to work, or on their way home. Happy? Tired?
Time moves on and I watch and wait for darkness to slip
away. For the spell to be broken. For the magic of this morning to ease into another day. Waiting for the raw cold to no longer snatch at my breath. For the iced water to thaw. Waiting for sunrise and new music. Waiting entranced. Silently singing my own winter
song of gratitude and joy.
As Dessie sleeps
with his tongue sticking out and Eliza purrs,curled up on the hot water bottle she thinks is hers!
Dessie has a charming new habit. Once he's finished his meal, he comes and wipes his chops on my trousers-lovely!
To my shame it took me a couple of days to work out that
he wasn't just using me as a glorified napkin but that he was actually in some discomfort. Eating hurt his mouth so he came and rubbed it against my leg to ease the pain.
A trip to the vet and sure enough she found a small mass in his mouth/throat which is being treated. There was a reason. There was a
need behind the irritating habit. And it made me think of my own irritating habits- what's behind them. And what's behind the habits of those who wind me up!
It's certainly a challenge to not be so judgmental. To be more patient and more understanding. At least
to try to be!
Wren will it stop raining?
A Tiny wren
sheltering under leaves no bigger than my hands
pushing her fragile existence
I help with a few crumbs,
some nuts, some seeds
she it is who has to forage,
Yet still so beautiful
as she is sent on her way
by a robin
and wondering as we all are
rain will finally