Like it or not, winter comes. We are told that the foothills (us) could get from 6 to 14 inches of snow by Wednesday, with temperatures in the teens during the day, below zero at night.
I snapped a picture of these aster-like flowers ablaze in Old Town, Fort Collins this afternoon when it was sunny and about 57 degrees.
We know winter will come. And we will pull out gloves and scarves and heavy socks. Thick soled shoes with tread and hats that cover our ears. Joseph hopes the woodland animals pair up. (“There is so much more warmth in pairs.”)
And we will trudge and slip and slide and hopefully not fall on our asses too much — and get through it. Like we get through things.
I want not to dread winter. I want to know that it means no harm, that it brings a different light, a reflection. It softens sounds.
I want to understand that the sting of cold cannot compare to the slicing pain of loss.
These flowers may not make it through another few nights of cold. But I held them in my lens today. A generous gift as I scanned for beauty today. And I will look for beauty in winter.
Winter’s coming. I will bundle up, give thanks that I have more warmth in a pair, and enjoy the change in light.
If I don’t fall on my ass too often, I could almost enjoy this season.