Morning Landscape

Today we woke up to this.


And I, who usually try to find something beautiful and inspiring in the morning landscape, feel only disgust.

It’s October, for crying out loud!  We still have soccer games to play!

I don’t have time for snow.
I don’t like snow.
I don’t like piles of wet coats, boots, hats and gloves.
I don’t like driving in snow.
I don’t like trying to run life on schedule when snow ruins the schedule.

If I could live winter indoors, just close up the house, start a fire and spend the winter reading, I might like snow. I admit that it’s beautiful, but having to go out in it spoils it for me.  After all, a snowy road is only pretty until 10 cars have driven on it, and then it’s just gray and dirty and slushy.
I am only interested in being a winter spectator.  I have no desire to be a participant.  I especially hate being the driver.   I’ve spent my whole life driving in snow, but I hate it more every year.  This year I’m nervous about driving a monster space shuttle full of my most precious cargo on snowy, icy roads after years of driving a 4 wheel drive SUV that I could trust.  You don’t want to know how stressed I already feel about driving to Colorado for Christmas.

This is ridiculous.  It’s been raining for days.  We have plenty of moisture already.

Yep, I’m ticked about the snow.
And I don’t feel even slightly motivated to fix my attitude.

The End.

A boy, two gorillas, and a rock



“Dad, when I was in heaven I watched a movie about a red gorilla.

No, maybe it was a dream.

Actually it was a white gorilla.

Well, the red gorilla was fighting the white gorilla.”

“What were they fighting about?”, asked Dad.

“They were fighting about the rock,” said the boy.

“Why were they fighting about the rock?” asked Dad.

“Because they had killed the rock and they both wanted to eat it for dinner.”

The end.

Lift up your eyes…



Saturday I drove down a street lined with trees whose golden leaves had yielded to yesterday’s breeze.   Strewn on the ground, they made a golden carpet, their color enhanced by the morning rain.

We climbed the hill to the plateau on top, parked and walked to the sidelines of our soccer game.  With the sounds of coaches and parents cheering children on, I took a deep breath and turned full circle.  The panorama was breathtaking.

To one side, a mountain dappled with colors of copper, rust and mustard, wispy white clouds creeping down the steep slope.  A crisp white church steeple completed the composition.  Ahead of me another mountain rose, it’s top wearing the season’s first coat of snow.

Next came a patch of turquoise sky the shape of an hourglass, which gave way to a view of the valley stretched out before me beneath layers of gray and white clouds with a single line of blue cutting horizontally through it all.  I studied the nuances in the clouds:  bright white, creams, grays and a stormy deep blue all layered together in soft yet majestic pattern.

A gentle breeze brushed my hair across my face as a sudden warmth touched my shoulders, evidence of the sun’s persistent efforts to penetrate the clouds.  Many miles south I saw a patch of sunlight.  The lake glistened with it, and three small, thin clouds  were suddenly bright enough to look as if they were the source, and not recipients, of the rays.

What a gift.  I shook my head in awe and wonder at God’s use of color and light.

I am so, so grateful to be alive.

Hopeful Homemaker

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