I find at 58 years old that winters tend to drag along a little longer and my spirit withers under some lugubrious languor.  Been happening the last couple three years I’m thinking but I strive to recognize it for its natural rhythm and try to embrace it.  There are beautiful things in winter, not the least of which I believe are the feelings we follow in our soul as the Earth traces its celestial trajectory between solstices.  Life is such an exquisite mystery and irreducible wonder that it seems silly to waste too much time meandering in this miasma of melancholy.  It doesn’t take any effort at this age to recognize the great gift of life and how fleeting – as we watch numerous friends succumb and depart.  The transient nature of life makes me thankful for each day to breathe the air and see the beauty in each moment.  Reflecting over the better part of a lifetime behind reminds me of the importance of our relationships.  Time tells me age gives us wisdom to reflect and appreciate the beauty of each day.  How important to be grateful for every day.  How winter is as beautiful as summer.  How others’ orneriness may only emanate from a lack of felt love.  The wonder of watching your kids find their gifts and blossom like the flowers of spring.  How fine to have friends.  How delightful and remarkable is one more healthy day!  How good it feels to walk the Earth.  The privilege and grace to think and feel.  Pride seems out of place for renters of such majestic faculties.  Gratitude seems to cloak that spirit in more regal raiment.  Today I feel that excruciating beauty – that wonder of winter.