I don’t love Old Man Winter. But I cannot deny his charm, wooing me with the exquisite transformation our homestead has undergone through the night.
When it’s time to feed the fire, I open the backdoor and with great trepidation expose my fluffy robe-wrapped, Muk Luk-wearing body to the sting of his bite. He steals my breath away with one blustery gust of icy air, replacing it with the bitter burn of wood smoke and the fresh scent of newly fallen snow.
He has created a scene that is nothing less than absolute enchantment. The light of morning unveils a seemingly supernatural display, a genuine winter wonderland glistens before me.
The artistry, the wizardry, and the peace inducing beauty of this moment – I am without a doubt under his spell. His approach was abrupt and I won’t mind a bit if he departs just as swiftly as he came.
But today he is my muse.
I will allow his magnetism to draw me in, pull me close and fill me with inspiration. I will meld with his mojo and soak up every ounce of his passion. Today I will cling to this sort of hypnotic mindfulness that only he can hearten within me. I will harness his offerings and ruminate on his essence long after he bids me farewell.
Today I will use him up.