In the land of winter,
birch trees glow in gold morning light,
and hemlocks bow to greet the ice-bound land.
Dense
snow-quiet,
cracks open
with the clattering of iced-bone branches.
Warm sunlight pries away the grip of ice.
One by one, small, half-tube bits,
clink down to the crusted snow.
Blessed with ice magic here at RavenWood,
and grateful that it has been gentle.
Not too thick, and no high winds
has saved us from power outages.
For me, the loss of electricity
means hauling water, cooking on
the wood stove, and using the "Luggable Lou".
Not to mention daily forays on snowshoes
to a hole dug way down in the snow
to empty said bucket.
Sparkling moments, crystalline forms,
and expanses of blue-white landscapes:
I am under the Ice Queen's enchantment.
Still awaiting the arrival of the new heater,
my studio sits, frozen and buried in the snow.
A quickening within me promises
the birth of new work, though, as it is
with my cycles of creativity,
exactly what it looks like is a mystery.
I balance walking, shoveling, and bringing in
wood with afternoon tea and a good book. As the
semester progresses, there will be more school-prep,
more student needs, more demands on my time.
For now, I find myself in the moment,
feeling the weight and texture of the wood I carry,
and my body's appreciation of gentle movement
and deep breathing.
Things on my long list don't seem as urgent as they
did a month ago. I am trusting in divine timing
and the profoundly beneficial gift of
rest and regeneration.
"Blue Night", watercolor on paper, 4"x4"
