rapalm

Grace

Glen Creek, Adirondacks, NY. The new snow dusted over the old snow overnight, and I slid down the embankment in some kind of out of control clatter to get down ...
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Glen Creek, Adirondacks, NY. The new snow dusted over the old snow overnight, and I slid down the embankment in some kind of out of control clatter to get down to the stream. The quiet returned quickly enough, an absorbing quiet that even the movement of the water did little to penetrate. There was as much charm in the brook's movement as in the more static sweep of snow laden evergreen boughs, and the scene stood still, posing, for some time while I fumbled with cold fingers, slick rocks and precious gear. I laughed to myself, thinking about the contrast of winter's benevolence before me, and human turmoil within me. I lack the peace, the smoothness, even the temperament to hide what lurks below the surface of a flawed soul. If only what is before me could give me a lesson in grace. I am learning.
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