Eyes of the beholder

Oh, the sun is shining, all right.  But it's the fall of the year, and it's cold outside, not warm.  The wind is blowing.  The trees are beginning to drop their leaves.  Planted flowers have given up the ghost.  Roses are the only thing blooming, and they're on their way out.  Mulberry berries are dry-looking.  They've just begun their latent stage, waiting to disperse their berries upon the arrival of spring.

If a person pays attention to the signs, then the ensuing weather of the next 4 months is no surprise.  The warning weather of mid-fall prepares us to see the beauty of the phase of the seasonal cycle.  I do love snow and its blinding whiteness when the sun glances off its ice crystals.  I love the activities of winter.  I look forward to its cuisine - the soups, the stews, the chilis, the teas, the hot chocolates and hot ciders - to its clothing - coats and gloves, the occasional toboggan hat, ear muffs, and sweaters for inside - and to its holidays embedded within those next four months.

Oh, it's a bleak season.  Life is dormant.  The dominant color is some version of brown.  The wind and precipitation that accompany the season is greatly uncomfortable.  Going from one place to another takes a little longer, and it seems that more work is involved in getting anyone else riding to be ready at the same time as the driver.

But beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.  Reality is a perceived matter so much of the time.  And I love the
snow and its blinding whiteness... the stews and hot chocolates... coats and gloves... and oh my goodness, such lovely holidays.