The dirt is soft and I can only hear the crinkle of the dry pine needles and small branches that cover the drive. I back in as I have for the past thirty years as close to the same spot as memory makes it possible.
The sky is gray; the air ice cold from clouds on the verge of producing rain. Nearing the creek the emerald green moss is thick on the trees and covers the ground like a warm down comforter. The pounding Brandy Creek water against the granite boulders reminds me that it’s still December.
Frost covers autumn leaves like white lace giving them a second opportunity for nature’s beauty.
The frozen creek bank offers comfort during an uncomfortable time. The images are the same, but yet different, always changing. Sometime it’s best to use the words of those who know there meaning better than I.
“There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.”