I’m never tired of the lacework of tree branches against a dawn sky. Though crossed with power lines and bisected by a blinking cell phone tower, there is an essential beauty in their purity, their pen and ink precision.
But this morning, I’m not as much dwelling on the beauty without, but the richness within that the rising sun illuminates. The side lights mist with condensation. We are on the furnace and double-hung window side of a hard frost. As the living room fills with golden light half of our little family has the luxury of staying put, eating steaming pancakes and studying under a shearling throw.
Simple gifts– warmth and light and the grace of stillness.
Happily joining in with daily prompts
for December with other good folks