Colors

The winter is a perfect time to contemplate color. Perhaps its general absence makes it is easier to see what is there. The clumps of pine needles stand out against a white background. There is a yellow haze haloing the cottonwoods, so subtle I wonder if my anticipation of spring is playing a trick on me. The red in the tail of the hawk can clearly be seen against the grey sky as he scopes out a new perch.

Maybe it is also my new love of watercolors that is changing my view. I've looked at some of my photos and zoomed in so far that all I can see are the individual pixels of color. I know the impressionists discovered this long before I did, but my eyes are finally seeing it on their own. And they are seeing it in everything.

Community

You can find community anywhere. Sometimes it is with your neighbors. Sometimes in your church. But often with a group that shares some sort of interest. Our running group is that way; we love to be outside, no matter what the weather. For me, the worse the day, the more I feel like I've had a secret, special experience. The new snow feels soft underfoot. It clings to my eyelashes and the world becomes full of prisms, forcing me to rely on my other senses. We murmur to each other to watch for hidden spots of ice. We each do our own pace for repeats, but collect together for the next effort. Someone spots the hawk, hunkered down in the bare tree. Another wonders how the new calves are faring. And we all feel a joy that we didn't crawl back under the covers or we would have missed all this.

For Jean

She was too young. So much energy, so many things to do, daughters to finish raising. I only met her a few times. The first time was in the infusion room. Despite receiving poisons intravenously, if you are not medicated into sleep, it's a rather nice place. The best view in Boulder, looking straight up past the Foothills to the snow covered continental divide. Yet we all have cancer and live with a strange blend of fear and acceptance. We talk about life, not about our illness. We make plans; we celebrate the day to day; we take care of our families even while they are taking care of us.

She was planning a trip to California with her girls. She was also planning the local Relay for Life. We soon realized we both had ovarian cancer, the "other" women's cancer, the one that's not pink, the one that most people respond with a look that says "oh, shit". But we had learned to dance with it. To live fully when we had the energy, and even when we didn't. And we prayed that we were the ones who were going to beat the odds, to hang in there until they found a cure, or at least another drug that would buy us a few more, precious years. Jean, time ran out too soon. You were the one who really was supposed to beat the odds.

 

Energy

 

Some days are just so beautiful that they fill your spirit. Four inches of light fresh snow, a bright blue sky, and a run to my favorite tree. The herd of cows near the creek has been adding tiny black and white faces every day. They hide behind their mothers, then run around with complete abandon. Redtailed hawks perch in the cottonwoods, diving down and gliding up to a new branch. A kingfisher trills from the nearby creek, hiding on a low overhanging branch. Winter water pours through the spaces between the smooth river rocks covered in their snowy comforters. My special tree watches over all of this, as it has for the last century as winter slowly turns into spring.