I love seasons. I love the feeling of anticipation as one season gives way to the next. I think there is beauty in all the seasons, even winter, where it is admittedly harder to find. Sure, snow is beautiful: snow capped mountains, snow of fir trees, snow flakes on window panes. But without snow, winter is often left with just cold and dark.
Last week I was taking a walk in the cold January twilight (4 pm) and thinking. (Author’s note: I also really love walking. And thinking. Perhaps a blog post for another day.) I was on a hill watching the sunset over the buildings of Alexandria and looking at the trees. Trees have a melancholy, bare beauty in winter: branches reaching up like a thousand open hands to the sky. I love the patterns those dark branches make; so stark against the morning or evening sky, which is often white.
As I looked up through the branches of this particular tree on this particular evening, the setting sun caught the tree with its last light and made it shine. The whole tree – trunk, branches, twigs and all – shone with the yellow, orange light of evening. It was beautiful! I stood still just looking at the sky through the shining tree and felt blessed to see this moment. And then it was gone.
I love the seasons. All of them.
Which season do you love best? What beauty do you see in winter?