Winter Light

"I wish it lasted longer," he says as we remark about the brilliance of Autumn alighting on so many trees, casting blankets of color on the ground around them. "No," I say to him, "that's part of the beauty." We are forced to notice the crimson, gold, orange, and maroon, because we know it quickly fades into Winter. Now, I should admit to you that I am a Winter person. Maybe there is a Winter gene, but at the least, there is a Winter heart. When the weatherman says the temperatures are dropping, my gut reaction is glee. Knowing that, it's then no surprise that I love the transition from Fall to Winter as much as Fall itself. We set our clocks back, the leaves fall, and then there is Winter light. Winter light is cleaner and softer. It is both strong and tender. It casts long lacey shadows of bare trees. It puts a painterly filter on the farmland. Winter light recollects for me feelings of my early childhood in Canada. They aren't memories exactly, but vague sweet thoughts of my dad preparing for Christmas, my grandparents in their cozy house, and my mom cooking dinner with the soft purple glow of twilight out the windows.

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Winter light is the earth herself marking advent, the days growing shorter with anticipation on their way to Christmas. Watch with peace and hope the Winter light as the days grow short, for we know that they again grow longer and Β brighter.