In winter you can see the bones of things. I got out of the city today, client meetings in two different parts of the foothills and a long drive in between. It is raining steadily and the forest knows this weather, knows that winter is a time to send energy underground. I am not getting enough sleep, but I am writing and I am doing work I love and I am walking with my dog and my son and my sweetheart and my beloved friends are never that far away.
Looking out the window, I can see the way the bare willow branches glow gold against the dark cedars.. I can see how the pale green lichen covers the alders so that they look like skeletons. The licorice ferns coat the Big Leaf maples like thick green fur. You can almost imagine the maples waking under a full moon and shambling around in a wild tree dance. In winter you can see the bones of things, and at this time, the choice of looking at what is here or at what is not is never more plain.