Prism

The human soul
is a
prism,
reflecting
and
refracting
the
Light
of
Love
into
a spectrum
of
Emotions.

(texture courtesy of Kim Klassen)

Sunday Morning

When I awoke Sunday morning, the dreary shade of light was unusual. It’s Sunday right? There had been some hints the sun might actually break through, so I had somewhat realistic expectations. Ok, so it’s not sunny, it is in fact, cloudy. It is also, in fact, a little foggy.
This is where it starts to get interesting; I am, admittedly, not a ‘morning’ person. I understand that there are people who are morning people, and at hours occurring later in the day, I wonder about them. I am not capable of that kind of thinking immediately after waking. I compensate for this state of oblivion by operating on an automatic pilot basis. I am capable of some basic functions i.e. flipping light switches, feeding the cat, etc. Speech itself is iffy at best, ‘verbal’ is not up yet. If I did not have to limit my caffeine intake, I would likely be slamming the elixir just to get to ‘verbal’. A hot shower begins to thaw what are apparently frozen brain cells. Next are the 2 bowls of hot oatmeal, and all the rest of the required food groups contribute to bringing me to consciousness.
It has always been so. It is in the DNA, my mother functioned much the same way. I think I envy those ‘perky people’ who open their eyes and poof; they’re ready to face the day.
So what happened Sunday morning was noteworthy. I was not really awake, but my visual senses picked up a difference in light that was not sunshine, not clouds, not fog. It was the light altered by the presence of Hoar Frost. It appears to be snow at first glance, but it is not. Its affect on the ambient light is almost ethereal. It is subtle and unique and it is as rare as a rainbow. The slightest change in temperature melts the crystalline structures, and the whole faerie effect is gone. And by some small miracle I had the presence of mind to grab my camera and run outside in my pajamas.
I’m no Ansell Adams. I’m not a great photographer. But sometimes the beauty surrounds us so completely that no camera could miss it. The trick is not to miss it. And by the grace of God, on this Sunday morning, I did not.

God's Pumpkin