Wednesday, March 6, 2019

March 6, 2019 - Armored

The pines, so bristly and sharp and pointy in the summer, are suddenly smooth and plump and full of life in the winter.  We so easily pass them by in the warmer weather as our eyes search for the green bounty, but in the cold weather, our eyes linger.  The needles reflect the winter sun, growing stronger now every day.  Together they create a shimmering green carpet in the trees.

Armored.
How is it that they alone among the trees can show such signs of life while everything around them is silent and grey?  How is it that they can laugh at the treacherous ice and the mountains of snow while their brethren have been beaten and laid low?  How do they stay alive in the unforgiving season of death, and what can they teach us?

Shining, shimmering green tresses waving gently as palm trees on a tropical beach, but submerged instead in a frozen and icy gale.  The Queen of Winter, fearless as the tiny porcupine who walks slowly by the starving lion, undaunted and unconcerned and unafraid.  Armored to the teeth, a snail’s pace is a luxury they can afford.