Some days are harder than others.
I arrive here with a broken heart...a broken will....feeling the lack...missing the plenty.
How is it possible to speak to the bounty and beauty when there is so much sorrow and hate?
How do I make sense...give hope....believe?
Today - it's Paris.
Yesterday - it was somewhere else.
About what might be tomorrow - we don't know. We dare not think.
The world has become a scary place. We are one. We are the same.
Today - is one of those. Harder than others.
It snowed. This season's first.
The winds howled. The fields lay empty and quiet....void of the life they've been living.
Flags flew at half-mast.
The cows are now tucked away for warmth and safe-keeping.
There was hardly a bird in the sky.
Only the brave sheep remained.
They looked at me. They know nothing. I looked at them. I know too much.
Here - it all feels so remote...so distant...so safe.
The season's first snow comes as a welcome reminder. A gift.
Up here in these mountains.
We begin with our hearts wide open. We hope. We pray.