Today the snow has stopped and the ice rain is falling. My rooftop snow is melting, slowly, with attached icicles , dripping tears of sadness, because it is time to go. Saying goodbye is always hard. Cold. falling, stabbing. Each icicle has its own personality. Some are long, and some are short. Some are rounded at the bottom and some are daggers, very sharp at the ends. The entire roof is hanging on, just for a short few more days or hours…Its sliding, gently but when it falls, the earth’s forest floor takes the brunt.
The trees are doing the same bidding of farewell. Sloping, sloppy, dumping snow on unaware souls below. Is this death or birth? Sending off the snow that has been blanketing each leaf and needle. The needles drop some without notice onto the sloping snow below. The needles are cinnamon in color, casting a shade of rust to the snow. This time of the year, here in Montana is so beautiful. Only God could have made such a masterpiece. An overture of sliding snow, slippery ice, melting icicles, and heavy snow, laden with water, waiting to exhale…
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