Out of Synch

As I write this, it is bright and sunny and climbing to an unseasonable 72 degrees today.  I hear the reports of winter weather, feet of snow and people trying to stay warm while my allergies are kicking in.  And, I’m at work.  The office is closed but my department is here.

All of this goes against the very rhythm of my soul.  It is winter.  It is the first of the year.  It is suppose to be cold.   We are all suppose to gather round and have time for family and friends.  Most important, we are suppose to have time to reflect.  Like the earth, like the trees, this should be a time of darkness and “death” so we can be renewed in the spring. 

Instead, I find myself like the gladiola bulb by my driveway, tentatively poking its head out of the ground, confused and grumpy and tired seeing who turned up the heat.  Next week that tender shoot may be crystallized with a heavy frost, you just can never tell with the weather here.  But, more likely it will hang on, limping forward and growing too soon and producing a think stalk and anemic blooms never having the opportunity to enjoy the full nourishment of winter.


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