Today my son & DIL’s back yard is snuggled in under a white blanket of new snow. Actually, the new inches are layered over the previous feet. This is the Blue Ridge Mountains, and snow is part of winter.

And while it makes driving a huge chore — not to mention scary! — it’s so beautiful. So that’s my thought today: my old friend reframing. I was smart enough to realise, when I went w/ my DIL to take my grandson to daycare, and drop her off at work, that we’d need something to eat tonight. A trip to the corner supermarket put two small roasts on schedule. (They’re browning now.)

And my son just went to pick up wife & son early — the university is closing; the daycare is closing. It’s getting slickery. But again — it’s so very beautiful…

To know that there is enough heat, enough warm food, good company, and warm beds for this night that will drop to 6°…. What a secure feeling. And how often we take it for granted, our ordinary American lives.

Down the street from me — probably 1/4 mile, as the crow flies — a man froze to death one winter night. In my neighbourhood. Actually outside my bank… For lack of a blanket, shelter, warm food. All of which I have in abundance. When I think about my small trials — and too often they do NOT seem so small, I’ll tell you! — I try to remember what I don’t even think about. The things that for their lack, kill Americans every winter.

And yet this cruel cold is so quiet. The large pines are sifted w/ snow, and the tracks of the occasional rabbit, and the dog Silas, feather the glittering surfaces. What do I know about beauty that isn’t written in those footsteps, and the veil of snow descending with the late afternoon sun?

Reframing, folks. Like winter: cruel but beautiful. Beautiful but dangerous. It’s a metaphor for something, surely. If I can just read those tracks…