December 25, 2014
Christmas Day
I usually get up at 5:00 but the holiday lazes me, now is 7:00
and I am still in bed. Winter dawn comes
later and later, and the globe seems to be slowing down every day. I toss and turn, cannot stand it anymore, so
I get up, make myself a cup of coffee and begin my Christmas day.
It is always a consoling feeling to sip hot drink and watch the winter
saga playing outside the windown. A
sparrow flies in and sits on my balcony railing. I welcome wildlife on this late December day. Most birds already migrate to the south. I wonder why this little creature still lingers
here. Seconds later, the bird takes a dive and
disappears. The persistent rain for the
past few days finally ceases. Sun comes
out and displays a brilliant sunrise. During
the night the weather has moderated. It
turns out to be a warm Christmas morning after all. I slide my balcony door open and let in some cool
fresh air. Instantaneously, my plants react with a
positive acknowledgment. Flashes of light
scattered over them, they tilted at exactly the right angle to reflect the rays
of the eastern sun. Being trapped indoor, they have been unhappy
for a long time, I know.
My gaze turns back to the outside world. Across the street, a tall handsome hickory
tree was once thick with summer foliage now stands bare and stark, not a single
leave remains on its bough. For the past
few days, with rain coursing down it and dripping down from its branches, there
is now a sad beauty about the tree. Summer
diversifies, winter simplifies. Winter color is always gray and dull but yet
peaceful and serene. Winston Churchill
once wrote in his wartime speeches, “O
Lord, support us all through the day long, until the shadows lengthen and
evening comes, and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over, and
our work is done. Then in Thy mercy
grant us a safe lodging, and a holy rest, and peace at last.” Winter is the time to rest and to
regenerate. I am certain, with the first
hint of spring; young leaves of this hickory tree will unfold in no time.
After breakfast, I start taking my morning walk to the Four-mile
run creek. Recent sousing rain has given
the river a full force of life. Instead
of murmuring quietly, today, the brook is gashing, plunging, tumbling, in some
places rumbling. “If there is magic on
this planet, it is contained in water”.
I have seemed what water does to the canyons of southern Utah. The incessant water movement shapes and adds
characters to the river. Idyllic pools,
deep water pockets, and singing cascade are formed. In places, the soft river surface reflects images
of the forest and blue sky. The woods, in the mid of a cold harsh winter,
still exerts a magnetic spell. It is a
delight to walk along its meandering bank and watch a Christmas morning progressing
inside this urban forest.
No one really comprehends God’s intention to give the earth four
distinct seasons. For some folks winter
may serve no purpose. They dislike
winter so much that they prefer to live permanently in the south. As I
increase my walks in the woods and get closer to nature, winter, like spring,
summer and fall has its unique allure. Maybe
it is the crisp cold air, or perhaps it is the stillness and tranquility, quite
possible the aloof and solitude.
In a bleak and, to most, cheerless day of winter, when most
people are thinking of their warm cozy home, “I come to my woodlands walk as
the homesick go home” Henry David Thoreau loved his Walden Pond, John Muir worshiped the high Sierra, I fancy my
Four-mile run creek.
