“For life is the best thing we have in this existence. And if we
should desire to believe in something, it should be a beacon within.
This beacon being the sun, sea, and sky, our children, our work, our
companions and, most simply put, the embodiment of love.”
(painting: Bonnie Joy Bardos, oil, 36" x 48")
Finally, finally. A new blog post for the New Year, even if it's now the first of February. Some of us just roll a bit slower in winter (anything for an excuse, right?). Snow came yesterday, large flakes drifting quickly to earth, covering all in a blanket of white. Pine branches glisten, sky a gray pearl.
Today, most of the icing melted away. A little bit here, there, lacing white through dark leaves.
A blue French pot bubbles with soup on the old stove.
A pile of books rests close by, a wood bowl of white shells gleams.
A little Norfolk Island pine I saved from glitter and a lonely grocery store shelf spreads dark-green feathery branches. I swear it's stretching in gratitude.
Wind chimes sing, clear of note and sweet.
Birds flit, a hawk rises high overhead.
Inside, an oil painting dries slowly. Everything is slower in winter. Even paint drying.
Life goes on, a new decade ahead. Time ticks, for it is the one thing that isn't slower in winter.
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