Another Day

The snow is falling once again in Northern Alberta. The wood stove is stoked up for the night, and here in the other end of the house, a small electric fireplace is keeping my feet from getting cold.  The animals are all curled up in the warmest spots - they have a natural ability to reflect the desire for warmth.  How compelling that desire can be - motivating me to stay indoors and watch the snow fall through the somewhat frosted glass of the window.  The cold runs through my life like a vein of stark metal in the warm earth, penetrating the spaces between all the seasons of my joy.  I count the winter months away, ticking them off gratefully, and looking forward to the first signs of spring - prolonging the more pleasant activities of winter - the holiday season with its parties and celebrations, the setting out of lights to brighten the darkness, which already in mid-November is coming in mid-afternoon, creating the sense that the day is over almost before it has begun.  Once I am used to the reality of the cold, I can find things to enjoy - the sun sparkling on the snow, the warmth of a chinook wind, and even the howl of a blizzard around my sanctuary of warmth.  My life has had its seasons too, it seems, its summers of celebration and winters of waiting.