Snow Day Musings

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It has been a whirlwind three weeks, and then yesterday two marvelous things happened:  First I learned that the radio station would be closed on Friday and that I could stop fretting about getting my show ready.  Second, a foot of snow was forecast.

I awoke this morning to whiteness and quietness – snow falling on spruce and pine, the aspen edged in white lace.  The insistent “What should I do with this day?” is being snow-muffled into a “Let’s just let this day reveal itself – an unfolding of grace.”

I peel an orange.  Not an orange, actually.  Rather a glorified celebration of refreshment called a Minneola Tangelo.  I savor a segment at a time as I do bits of this and that, watching the snow falling, falling, falling.

Into my new and quite marvelous stovetop percolator (another post is coming soon to tell more of this wonder) goes a mixture of New Mexico Pinion coffee and Trader Joe’s Organic Decaf, and the cow creamer is filled with heavy cream.  I leisurely dump Yukon Gold potatoes into a pot of water to cook on low for later, put some brats in the oven, and begin gathering my supplies:  journal, pens, highlighters, books, books, books.

Normally I would sit in the quilt covered leather chair to the side of the fireplace, but today it’s front and center before the fireplace.  Time to build a fire.

As I write this post, the wood snaps, crackles and pops.  I love it.  And I love the musings, which always seem, like a lovely and evolving dance, to become the really good parts.

The good parts – the parts I didn’t plan, the inspiration and conversation parts.  My son joins me as he hears the coffeepot percolating (I had already pre-warmed a cup for him in hopes of this very thing).  Our conversation goes from the silly and ridiculous to the profound.

Somewhere in there I am reminded of a post I meant to write, and I get inspiration for my next radio show.  The post is to be entitled “Whatever I want” and the radio show thoughts become notes to be shared with John.

John is doing three things, but he stops, turns his chair toward me, lifts his face, points to his mouth, and says, “Put it right here, Pal.”  I like being called “Pal” and I like prefacing what I have to impart with a kiss or two.

We share what’s on our minds and explore new possibilities, and then I scoot back to my couch nest to scribble notes and sip excellent coffee.

So, it’s 10:30 a.m. and I have already set my soul in order for the rest of what God has planned for me today.  A day wide open to Him.  Such a gift.

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