Life's Simple Pleasures
Entry by: eliza wood
16th December 2016
Well below freezing this morning but it is a wonderful moment, wrapping my aching hands around a mug of steaming coffee. Sipping slowly and feeling the hot liquid explode within me,warming me inside and out.
It's 4.30 am Dessie boy has had his first walk and we are now sharing a digestive biscuit and reading Psalm 148 which my grand mother so loved 'Praise the Lord, sun and moon, stars and light, snow and mist...' and I add, 'cold and warmth' which I celebrate equally as precious gifts as my freezing breath and the steam from my coffee rise in unison.
My cabin may be cold, but I feel wrapped within its iciness and embrace it as the little heater gently goes to work and slowly infuses warmth into the air and I become something more. Something precious, something known, something received, something celebrated.
In that moment, in the silence, mystery opens her arms and embraces all fear and all striving. I recognise her voice. I play her music. I see a lamb leaping as if it were spring. I see a Father smile as a breeze gently rustles the leaves of ancient trees. I smile too immersed in beauty.
The lawn we have walked across is alive, partying. Sparkling. A thousand frosty pearls winked at us and sang out their Hallelujah Chorus in silent magnificence. Echoed and swelled by the army of stars -all creation in a great concerto. A winter symphony, with cold and darkness, all part of the dance and rhythm . Creatures huddled in burrows. Birds hanging on needing our early crumbs to sustain them. Soon to sing their hearts out, in spite of the cold. In spite of their fragile vulnerability. Trees, stark and still, conserve their strength. Conscious of the feathered treasure that rests in their branches.
Traffic on the road in the distance, a faint rumble, the only clue that others are awake and on their way to work, or on their way home. Happy? Tired?
Inevitably, time moves on as I watch and wait for darkness to slip away. For the spell to be broken. For the magic of this morning to ease into another day. Waiting for the raw cold to no longer snatch at my breath. For the iced water to thaw. Waiting for sunrise and new music. Waiting entranced. Silently singing my own winter song of gratitude and joy.
As Dessie sleeps with his tongue sticking out and Muddle purrs,curled up on the hot water bottle she believes is hers!
It's 4.30 am Dessie boy has had his first walk and we are now sharing a digestive biscuit and reading Psalm 148 which my grand mother so loved 'Praise the Lord, sun and moon, stars and light, snow and mist...' and I add, 'cold and warmth' which I celebrate equally as precious gifts as my freezing breath and the steam from my coffee rise in unison.
My cabin may be cold, but I feel wrapped within its iciness and embrace it as the little heater gently goes to work and slowly infuses warmth into the air and I become something more. Something precious, something known, something received, something celebrated.
In that moment, in the silence, mystery opens her arms and embraces all fear and all striving. I recognise her voice. I play her music. I see a lamb leaping as if it were spring. I see a Father smile as a breeze gently rustles the leaves of ancient trees. I smile too immersed in beauty.
The lawn we have walked across is alive, partying. Sparkling. A thousand frosty pearls winked at us and sang out their Hallelujah Chorus in silent magnificence. Echoed and swelled by the army of stars -all creation in a great concerto. A winter symphony, with cold and darkness, all part of the dance and rhythm . Creatures huddled in burrows. Birds hanging on needing our early crumbs to sustain them. Soon to sing their hearts out, in spite of the cold. In spite of their fragile vulnerability. Trees, stark and still, conserve their strength. Conscious of the feathered treasure that rests in their branches.
Traffic on the road in the distance, a faint rumble, the only clue that others are awake and on their way to work, or on their way home. Happy? Tired?
Inevitably, time moves on as I watch and wait for darkness to slip away. For the spell to be broken. For the magic of this morning to ease into another day. Waiting for the raw cold to no longer snatch at my breath. For the iced water to thaw. Waiting for sunrise and new music. Waiting entranced. Silently singing my own winter song of gratitude and joy.
As Dessie sleeps with his tongue sticking out and Muddle purrs,curled up on the hot water bottle she believes is hers!
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