As the calendar’s caps continue their cycle, it seems as though the season’s cycle is a monotonous drag. The months slowly pace by with dreary skies and cold cracking skin. The last bits of autumn’s warm life have surrendered to winter’s fate. The dead lands are only given breath by the harsh wind’s blow. All eyes remain on winter’s hands as it moves slowly around the year’s clock, eagerly awaiting another time full of more life and song.
There is a certain solemn beauty in winter however. A beauty that is appreciated all the more when our retreat from nature’s cycle is taken captive by an understanding host for the momentary picture of life. When the eye that hides from the arctic skies, opens to greet the familiar company, it finds intense peace and an unfamiliar form of beauty’s dress.
It is evident why one would see no beauty in something lacking abundant life, as if it is simply a layer underneath a glorious picture that has yet to be painted. And it becomes clearer why one would only be in awe when the white veil falls, bringing life to the dead, beauty for the broken, and hope for the helpless scene. But this picture too, quickly fades away.
But delight can be felt, despite the snow’s fortune to melt. For perhaps it is the presence of the dead that reminds us of life; the need for the season’s cycle. When the eager eye rests, and takes the time to focus on the tree’s roots and the tree’s life, rather than the tree’s state—a new picture is unveiled. We now see a picture of strength. Not life which is dead, but life which endures by the strength of its roots; life who's growth remains despite the outward dress, and life which has hope for the seasons to come.
Delight can also be found in the hidden sounds, as beyond the eye, there is the ear—the listener that can hear the beauty that the eye will always miss. Perhaps in winter’s whistling winds and the roars of rushing waters, there is a hidden song—a song orchestrated by nature’s finest instruments which purposefully play each of their parts, joining in union to create a piece verging the core of triumph and might. The wind whispers and howls as it calls out to its neighbors, foretelling the struggle that a snow may soon bring. The feet of creatures now step with clear and vivid heed to the land, and the chirping and hustling in the forests are amplified by the bareness of the scene. The crack of ice slowly makes a frightening cry, meanwhile shouting warning in order to protect. The snow falls in softer keys, gently forming a collection of delicate comforts. The waters clamor their approval and slowly approach the finale. The instruments look up…to the uniter of the entire song—the conductor of the unique and marvelous masterpiece. And the conductor, finished with his beautiful instruments and the purpose each has fulfilled, brings the performance to an end in complete stillness and rest.