A winter’s day as I slip on my wool coat, heading out to church, as I have always done...

 A winter's day where the blanket of snow tells a story for those who take time to read it.... 

A winter’s day in which the cats confine their hunting trips to skirting the perimeter of the house, not liking the feeling of snow on their feet.... 

 A winter’s day in which the sheep pick their way over the icy snow packed ground to slide their warm bellies onto the cold snow and they wait for the sun....

 A winter’s day in which Hank and I slip and slide over the ice in the driveway as we walk out to the barn.... 

The barn has long been prepared for such a winter's day.  The loft was filled with straw and hay.  The bins were filled with grain and salt.  The barn floor was cleaned and replaced with fresh bedding which will build up over the winter, adding warmth to the barn. The pipes were carefully wrapped to keep the water  from freezing.  The ram was brought in and secured within a separate area with the breeding ewes.  The mice move in and scurry along their paths, cleaning up after spilled grain.  Every day as I enter the barn, I meet the same mouse as he hurries out of my way and out of sight.  The barn changes, adapts, filling through the winter.


 And at the end of winter, the new lambs will come, filling the barn again with wonder.

We all have our way of fitting into winter’s landscape and without even thinking, we adapt, make changes, growing into the season.

   I love the stillness of a Sunday winter’s afternoon where little moves and nothing much appears to be done. We make our favourite winter food that are allowed to simmer and bake long, filling the house with warmth and smells as we knead, stir and watch...and we are filled with contentment.

As the snow falls, I sit knitting.  I linger. I touch, absorbing the softness of the wool.  I touch the pages of the Book of Scriptures, studying the paintings. 

Winter is a gift that moves us to fill our days with unexpected richness.  We grow out of the confinement of winter,  the cold, the messiness and the drab landscape. We are other than just busy. We paint not just to paint, we knit not just to knit, we read not just to read, but to give back what was given...


There is an old Romanian saying: A gift from a gift, makes heaven.

And as we give, we are once again filled…from the winter we love.