I probably have about six or eight essays in some stage of the draft right now. When I go back to look at them, I see that many are simply rants about one thing or another (beautifully constructed rants, of course, with lots of sophisticated logic and thought). None of them drew my interest this morning, though. I am feeling good this morning, and this moment is what I am interested in describing today.
I am sitting in the dining area of our lake house. I never thought I'd own a lake house but here I am, sitting at the table looking out over the yard at the lake. The view out the window is wonderful, relaxing. This is my happy place.
The ice is gone from the lake. The wind is gusting through the trees, creating a beautifully textured sound. The wind chimes add their notes to the music that is a prelude to spring. The wind is whipping the water of the lake into a small frenzy. There is an unending series of waves racing across the surface to some destination out of my view.
It looks cold outside but when I stepped outside I am pleasantly surprised by the warmth in the breeze that is carrying spring in its arms. The breeze gives me a brief hug as it passes and I breathe deeply, inhaling the solitude and quiet reflection brought by the morning air.
The world is still filled with the earth tone colors of winter, the brown bare branches of resting trees, and pale greens of grass not yet awakened from winter hibernation. Even the green of the pine trees seems tired from the long, hard winter. They are ready to fade into the scenery and give the other trees pride of place along with plants that will soon blossom.
I am grateful for this morning and for this sanctuary.
