Ice Flows

024

Sometimes I am struck by the beauty of this place and sometimes I struggle with how cold it is.

Black charred stumps against red rock cliffs, tattered blankets of snow. River running, churning through and under thick ice creating ever-changing patterns

Downstream

remnants of warmer days seeping into cracks and fissures, infusing with a green hue.

I watch the brown grasses undulating in the breeze and I am sure I can see the hand of God.

“In winter I don’t think there is much that is more beautiful than these golden brown grasses,” I share with the 12-year-old, pausing to look at them this day, humbly bowing with snow along their spines.

Humph.

She is unimpressed.

“You are spec- al. Your Jay!” Reads the well-worn plate  beneath a bowl of Lucky Charms: 6 year-old Scarlett’s birthday breakfast.

Panda dress on with bright pink bow in her hair.

” I look pretty,” she declares examining herself in the mirror.

A simple, sweet recognition that I had never heard her utter.

Off to school with 18 mini blueberry muffins passed to her kindergarten pals and then the sharing of treasure box spoils with “The Birthday Girl”.

“I got six rings!” she exclaimed with delight.

At  home with her cheetah painted  face and friends: two puppies, one butterfly, one fish running, giggling, blowing  out candles all 6 atop her puppy cake.

Did she remember to make a wish?

Just now, I wonder this.

And then Ever so quietly it crept upon us. Stealthily, sneaking, I didn’t know the danger was there until it was gone. Scarlett and I for a moment, a mere moment were together where almost, Almost a severe accident occurred. The result would have brought serious injury or death to her. It didn’t happen. It didn’t happen. But it could have, might have. But it didn’t.

And then just like that, the evening unfolded for our family:

Off to see “Paddington”,

home for ice cream and sharing  moments of  the day She was Born.

Scarlett curled in my lap, mama arms wound tightly around her little 6-year-old self.

“Moments are the molecules that make up eternity” (Neal A. Maxwell)

And they are. Good and bad, for better and for worse.These moments, bringing joy and sadness, sadness and joy again and again and again

Round the circle we go.

“I just wanted to be happy” shared a friend amidst her prolonged unhappiness.

How we all seek

and yet it escapes the best and worst of us in dark and pleasant places.

Happiness.

Joy.

So bound and so intricately connected to the very fibers and sinews of sorrow and pain. Round and round we go on this exquisitely beautiful, Dreadful wheel.

Crazy.It seems.

And I am struck by the beauty and the cold of this place.

Inseparable.

One.

Struck by the beauty and the cold of this place.

029

Trail Find

I love my solo time in the mountains. Last Saturday I  discovered new trails in an area I have frequented for many years. One moment I did not know of their existence and in the next  a whole new view and adventure opened up for me. Funny how so many things in life go like that.

582

 

Alone on mountain trails, my feet and mind strive to keep pace together:

I run beside a  flowing creek and  into shady hollows where thick ice still covers stream beds straining to trickle underneath. I scatter eight doe through the forest: The husband. He is there and I am here. For this gift of time alone I am grateful to him.  Golden meadow grass heavy with  frost does not escape my eye:  the kids all six, one by one pass in and through me.

Between pines brushing my arms and head I go: good friends I have.Some will return with me to these trails another day.  Over wooden bridges slick with the morning frost, over rocks and twisting roots: the boyfriend of the 22 year old, happy for her, grateful for him. Up a hillside into a clearing bordered by aspen groves, pine stands and a glorious blue sky bring my feet to pause, to turn, to take it all in: the joys and challenges of my life, how might I do better.

I come to an  inclined ridge with  no end in sight. Through the curve and bend of pine boughs I  see sunshine and blue skies ahead. In this I find hope and a desire to carry on. And I love a challenge: getting to  the top, to the “end of the trail”  so up this ridge I  go and go and go. A view of the beyond and many moments to bathe in warm, glorious sunlight is my reward at the top. Instinctively  and just as naturally as my breathing itself  I find myself praying with a depth and earnestness that does not come in all my prayers. Its weight and its strength is nourishing to my soul. All these people along my trail, they pass through my heart and mind again. Silent whispers of gratitude, pleas of help and hope and faith.

I love to solo on mountain trails and on this day I found new trails, new adventures and new-found peace.

Once.

And again.