It feels like break-up, Alaskan style.  The vaporizing snow is sinking almost visibly, shoveled piles dissolving from feet to inches in a single day.  Icy water streams over rocks and streets and sparkles in the sun.  It's not quite warm, but not that cold.

Birds materialize from everywhere. They hop from icy branches to sidewalk to steps.  They mercilessly mock the cat, quivering at the window swishing his tail and chittering in the back of his throat.

It's bike in the shop day.  Summer tune-ups in the midst of the snow.  My fingers are a little stiff and cold fastening it onto the rack.  The strap on one side is broken, so I tug the bungee cord tight to hold it secure.  It feels so good to pull it down and roll it into the shop, to talk with the technician about repairs and trails and rides to come.  Another stop and promised new strap and a season of riding is ready to begin.

March madness blizzards; basketball, white-outs, and a over a foot of snow.  Not quite the spring break I was expecting.  The sun is high and clear all day, but the wind is sharp and soft streaming snow is everywhere.  It's a peaceful day.  I let the cat in and let the cat out as he struggles to understand that nasty stuff on the deck.  He shakes his feet angrily and huddles shivering into a sliver of sunlight, but as soon as I call him back in, he's glaring his open sesame stare right back at the door again.  

After a day of playing with recipes and clearing piles of clutter, I'm relaxed but a little restless and ready to brave the cold for the chance to be out.  The park is quiet, but not quite deserted. A few brave runners, some college students taking fun costume photos, and ducks by the dozens gliding through the icy lake.  My feet are cold and my knees are damp.  I've tramped through soggy mud to reach the waterfall and knelt in the ice for the perfect picture of the setting sun glinting off snow covered trees.  It's a perfect joy of imperfection, of accepting and embracing a change of hopes gifting a beauty unknown.  

It's the first tease of spring; sunshine, warm breezes and seventy degrees. The trail is nearly deserted. Crackly brown leaf strewn and surrounded by skeleton trees, it's leaches winter stress into the wide slow-flowing river.  It's one day gift, a single day off, a single day's hint of warmth to come.  It'll be back to forties tomorrow, I'll be back to work on Monday.  But spring break's just one week away, a hint and a promise of spring itself not too far away.

The Butterfly House

It was 92 degrees in there.  

A sunny glowing mist bath, vibrant with floating, fluttering colors.  

Snow edged tight against the glassy walls, 

where geese perched on the ice covered pond, 

just beyond the touch of the warmth. 

Butterflies,

 endless,

 overwhelming,

 impossible to take in.

  Enchantment in flight, 

 winter doldrums released.

Let your eyes look forward;

fix your gaze straight ahead.

Carefully consider the path for your feet,

and all your ways will be established.

Proverbs 4: 25-26

Slippery steps on a treacherous hill, 

             stinging kisses of flurries squinting my eyes,

In the peaceful gift of the wintery night,

            considering the path is simple self preservation.

A gasping laugh and an unexpected slide, 

           a thrill of the brush of reality 

                            hovering in the depths 

                                    of the dark, abandoned trail.  

A joy in traveling the dusky night,

           following the steps of one who's gone before.

They're walking away from me.

         Happy,
              Strong,
                   and Confident.

Off on the lives they're meant to live.

            They touch homebase on the twilight days of Christmas break,
                                playful,
                                      excited,
                                            and slightly bored.

Enjoying the last pretense of childhood freedom
     while chafing to return to the responsibilities of the lives they've chosen.

I savor the brush of their laughter,
                           a quick evening hug,
                                      and semi-reluctant
                                                agreement to a tromp through the woods.

 Leaf crunchy trail
            reveling in their antics
                   I'm misty proud of all they've become,

And not quite sure if I'm touched or horrified
                                    when they stop to look back
                                                             and check on me.
                          .
           
   

Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own understanding; think about Him in all your ways, and He will guide you on the right path. 

Proverbs 3:5-6

There's a path back there, there really is.  It winds around the little peninsula and flows into quiet, tree-lined stream curling around the back of the lake.  It's almost impossible to see until your just on it.  At least three times I tried to find it, muttering to myself the patient instructions given again at the shore, and running aground yet again on the mudflats of one more wrong turn.  

At least a dozen times I've been through it now.  I still remember the shock of the first time I finally made the right series of turns and the trees suddenly opened up to reveal the wide slow stream.  Even now I still feel that tightening of apprehension as I paddle toward that wall of trees.  Did I take the wrong turn?  Am I really going to find it this time?  It just looks like its going to deadened up here.

Then suddenly there it is; peaceful and shady, another kayak or two, an occasional fisherman, the distant murmur walkers on the trail above.  The path is suddenly clear, the directions make sense.  How could it have ever been that hard?

There are so many walls in the trails of our lives, so many deceptive mudflats.  We stumble forward, rehearsing the directions, wondering how there could possibly be a path back there.  What joy in those moments, when at least for an instant, the tangled trail unwinds into a peaceful open stream.