As the air gets frosted, I find myself craving light that comes from focused points, that light that makes even the shadows seem beautiful. I want to sit in a room where the corners seem ablaze with gold.
I want to sit in a room filled with hundreds of candles swaying around me. Pieces of the most lovely cream-colored paper fanned across the red hue of wood. A fountain pen tucked into my right hand.
I want to lose track of hours to my hand moving slowly across the page and entire thoughts in the flicker of a flame.
I want the warmth that comes because it is so cold in some places. To know my blessings because of the harshness just beyond transparent panes of melted sand.
For this is where we find blessing: in the unexpected snow, the frost that bites against the holly berries not yet red, and the honey glow of a light against a window when we sit to write a few words for a Sunday morning.
What blessings to cold temperatures give to you?