Sometimes, when it's 21 degrees outside and snowing like there's no tomorrow; when your day starts and ends with shoveling the never ending white mantel that is the stuff of winter wonderlands; when the wind is howling and winter's icy fingers seem to have a fast grip on the world; one finds it necessary to go to that lush place in one's mind that is forever green, and stunningly beautiful; that sings of promise and reflects the soul; that is a respite from winters desolate vastness. Life will burst forth, eventually, from this frozen tundra, and once again the birds will sing their songs to the dawn, and the day will bloom eternal.
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