A Killing Frost & First Flurries

We had a killing frost a few nights ago and then only days later the first flurries. The geraniums on my front porch put up a good fight but eventually the cold night air got them…it happens every year.

For some reason, I have spent a great deal of time thinking about winter this year. Maybe it’s because I don’t really like winter and long for the sunny skies of my childhood. Maybe it’s because Mr. Burg keeps the temperature in the house at 63 degrees (that’s cold folks!) in order to save on our gas bill. Maybe it’s because I can no longer garden and I have no winter hobbies.

Whereas it may be all those things, this year, I have been very aware of the cycle of life -both the life of the body and the spiritual life. I sense that in many ways I’m in the springtime of my spiritual life and yet, have this gnawing feeling that there is some death (or a remnant of winter) that must take place first. I’m sure there are things that block my ability to be fully open to God and trust that at some point, those must be removed. Such removal rarely comes without pain. Yet without winter, without time to gather-in, there would be no spring, no rebirth.

It seems my Yoga teacher has had similar ponderings. I’ve been with her for over two years now and adore her. Just one of the many reasons I am devoted is that most mornings she reads us poetry. How often in life do you get to sit quietly as someone lovingly reads poetry? It’s a gift!

About a month ago, she read the poem Many Winters by Nancy Wood. I had asked for a copy and then promptly placed it on the Black Hole of a pile on my desk. In an attempt not to do any real work a few days ago, I was sorting through that pile and came across the poem.

You shall ask
What good are dead leaves
And I will tell you
They nourish the sore earth.
You shall ask
What reason is there for winter
And I will tell you
To bring about new leaves.
You shall ask
Why are the leaves so green
And I will tell you
Because they are rich with life.
You shall ask
Why must summer end
And I will tell you
So that the leaves can die.