Warmth isn’t natural for Indiana this time of year, unless of course you make it yourself with two sticks and a hot flame.

Skewed, angled latitude makes for long nights and short days. This is the time to hunker down, batten up, hide.

The days are dark.

The mind feels dim.

Inhaling winter feels midnight blue and heavy, pregnant, premature, scarce.

Until I cracked open the windows. Imagine laughing at the privilege of an open window.

The breeze smells periwinkle.

Tastes fragile like robin blue eggshells.

Feels like lying on the grass with cottonseeds swimming all around.

He makes all things.

Knew all things.

He makes all things new.




God gives a hand to those down on their luck, gives a fresh start to those ready to quit.
~Psalm 145:14

*This post is part of the One Word at a Time blog carnival on “fresh” today. The painting is by Andrew Wyeth.

2 thoughts on “fresh

  1. So true! One of my yearly “can hardly wait” aspects is when I can open the windows and let the fresh wind blow through. [It’s not so much fun in a crowded town, but better than nothing…]

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