Let the beauty we love,
be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground."
The Farmwife Diaries
On this merry Christmas morning, after the kids gorged on gifts and games, we all walked down to the creek to see if we could see a salmon. ‘Tis the season of the Coho-ho-ho migration and catching sight of a fish always makes us feel proud and gratified, even though we are not of the Oncorhynchus ourselves. The anticipation is like waiting for a friend at the end of an ultra aqua marathon; it’s called a salmon ‘run’ after all. And here at the upstream end of the course, one experiences a wave of empathetic relief and joy that the finish line is in sight. With salmon, this is tempered by the poignant fact that the ‘finish line’ is truly the fish’s finish.
I pull back the curtain this morning hoping for snow. The sad and bad news of the last few days has had me heartsick and I wanted to see the world purified with a dousing of cold, white crystals. As if snow could freeze off the world’s spirit sickness the way a doctor freezes off a wart.