A Monochrome world

It’s a monochrome world out there. Or should I say sepia? Brown reeds rise above the icing sugar white powdering the marshy field outside my window. The sky is white; most of the ground is white; and from time to time, the air itself is white as a sharp east wind blows new snow and old, picking up what already lies like hills of flour and shifting it into drifts blocking the driveway.

We went for a walk, trudging through knee deep drifts in places, skating across bare patches, too. A tractor left its tracks down the lane and we speculated: surely there are no cows out in these arctic conditions? But yes, there are, clustering forlornly in the patchy shelter of gorse and trees lining the fence of the field. I took a picture, but our internet is as sluggish as molasses in January and so I hold no hopes of actually uploading it to my blog post. You’ll have to take my word for it. The cows and their calves, some quite small, look miserable.

Now, though, despite the white sky, air, and ground, the sun has broken through, lightening the view. Sometimes life itself can feel sluggish, monochrome or sepia, until the light shines through a friend or acquaintance, a word or the Word, instilling hope and installing peace deep inside.

Shalom.