The cold shorter dark days of winter feels like an entombment. A confinement that constricts my movement with a scant smell of emptiness.
Void of course.
Here in Colorado we are in between our seasons, winter to spring. The temperatures are bending with more day light. There are sightings of new life springing forth. The birds are flirting a new song, attuned to what is coming next...
However, it remains the coldest time of the year.
It’s snowing again and again. A void of remembrance that winter is still here. The air permeates dryness. My skin is crackly, itching to return. My patience is being exercised by the stillness to prepare. The snow acts as a shining mirror of self reflection offering a nourishing blanket to heal. Indeed the support to foresee a brighter future.
The space in between...
I ran from and far away to avoid winter. I prefer summertime when everything is colorful and abundantly growing. A craving of a past scent of instant gratification. Lacking the common sense or willingness to complete the cycle. By avoiding one season and moving to the next stunted my growth. The crucial benefits to grow. I grew tasteless immature fruit, leaving me hungry for more.
The space in between, the restoration is winters gift. A pause to rest is the keen common sense to support my new willingness to complete each cycle. Craving a new scent for patience that attunes me for what is coming next.
Rest assured my success to grow tasty mature fruit.