Ornamental

One thinks wistfully about sunlight in these short December days.

What a fine cloak early sunlight makes and how easily it lies across one's shoulders when it is present. It flickers through the bare trees on the ridge and turns my frozen creek into a shining river which almost seems to be flowing again. It makes a favorite snowy field into a treasure trove after sunrise and goes dancing across the tops of the artfully frozen goldenrod and meadowsweet, making them sparkle.

Everything I see as I stand here at the edge of the field this morning is a glistening ornament, one rendered with sweeping sunlit brush strokes and perfect attention. Sunlight at this time of year, however fleeting, is an expression of the Old Wild Mother's grace - it's a wild thing and a benediction.