Winter Chill

    It is winter in Northern California and this week that has meant frost on the roofs visible through the back kitchen window....our garage roof, the roof of the apartment building next door, the roof behind our house where the stray kitties sunbathe on occasion and if I lean forward I can see the roof of our next door neighbors who on the left who share our driveway. They all glitter white and shimmery, blueish in certain shadowed angles and impressively opaque. There is a true layer of white, and from certain angles it looks for all the world like true snow. The boys make believe that we have indeed had a wee blizzard and we haul the banana tree and the papaya tree into the kitchen in their gigantic pots and work around their absurd bulk as we wash the dishes by hand because the dishwasher has passed away and is awaiting buriel in the driveway. You have to duck around the papaya to get to the plate cupboard and the banana tree has to be slid to the side to open the low oven door. But there is room for us all and make do is kind of my favorite acoutrement in life

    And then, later in the day the sun comes out and I go out and plant pansies under our lemon tree. Its a funny life and a funny kind of winter. Thing are colder, I drink more coffee, we protect our plants now and then. The tomatoes and peppers  have wilted away into brown sticks, the cauliflower keeps slowly curving new leaves around its inner core which I hope means it is secretely developing a head. We bake more and there a constantly sprinkling of slippers and socks through the whole house as people shuffle in and out on the chilly tile floor of the kitchen. I am holding on for spring which you still need, it turns out, even if your winter is frost on the roof, cold floors and setting mouse traps instead of snow drifts and salting the sidewalk. We all need that blooming warmth and the heart of God draws us back to Himself in the midst of our aching coldness. It sure sounds good to drink in the sunshine and pull it into my bones. I need it, and the revitalization that comes with it. I am always comforted by the turning of the seasons, no matter what dark frosty time settles in and nips the buds off the eggplants, there is some warm beauty coming when the sun comes out.