With a brilliant full moon over our heads and ice as smooth as glass under our feet, the Artist and I made our first foray out onto the frozen pond Saturday night. As I stepped onto this temporary dance floor, graciously supplied by Mother Nature, I found myself in awe. This is the place that I gaze at throughout the summer, what I walk around countless times as I make my way out to the gardens to weed or harvest, and what I photograph all summer long from just about every angle.
Under my feet are fish, who on a hot summer day will scare me out of my skin as they jump out of the water, their ripples disappearing faster than I can turn around, trying to catch a glimpse of their contorted bodies. Beside me are the branches of a willow that have caught a swarming hive in spring, but tonight gently caress my cheek as the wind playfully dances around us. And just off in the distance I view the vegetable garden from an angle that I have never had the opportunity to exploit before now, and while it appears to be fast asleep, I know, just like the beehive nearby, that life is teeming, not just idly on standby until I return once the days grow longer.
The bright moon overhead tries its best to overshadow the celestial display around us, as it lights up this little farm down below it, turning it into a midnight wonderland of silver and white and light and shadows and reveals that this mid-winter semblance of a sleepy little place, is just a mere deception. Life continues all around this pond, no matter what any of the seasons choose to reveal, and the grace felt in my heart can not be ignored. For in the stillness of this night, you can hear this pond and I, and all creatures who dwell here, breathing a collective sigh of gratitude that we are able to call this place home.