Today is the day I’ve been waiting for. Each morning that I wake up and think that is bound to be a good day. These are the days I crave, I scavenge or win from myself once in each week or two. A day of surrender. A Sunday. A day of worship. A day I take my trusty dogs and cameras outside the house, into the ever-changing world of the yard.

Not even beyond the gate. It is too cold for woman nor beast to wander far from home. But after a day and night of misty snow, dawn crept into an icy chiaroscuro from here to the mountains’ horizon.

The last few fiery mornings have turned to murky skies after sunrise, days grey and cold with short bursts of finest snow. This morning frozen vapors coalesce into clouds and lift away, reveal a thin blue sky; light crystallizes in snow spun off powdered limbs of trees with the icy breeze.

I surrender to the world around me. I have chosen good company. I have planted myself in a sweet piece of land, and here will always be home. I leave soon on a journey; this day of surrender, a gift of circumstance, fuels my soul, my fondness, my courage, feeds my love for this little place, this yard, this garden. My tiny domain, my boundary.

The beehive in snow. Again. Still.

A day I can sit with my thoughts. Act upon them if need be. Step outside and  feed the birds, contemplate the beauty, make a few pictures, step back in before my fingers freeze.

Grateful as I am to my kind neighbors for the fine firewood, I will be grateful also to leave behind the hauling in of it. The last clouds linger over the mountains. A quick trip out the gate with the wheelbarrow, and one load of firewood is the most my fingertips can manage before going numb, even working and in gloves.

I planned to leave yesterday. Despite it being January it simply hand’t occurred to me that pure and simple cold would delay the start of my journey. It is simply too cold to tolerate being outside for more than a few minutes. Of all the things I considered, snow and wind and illness.. not once did I consider cold.