Minnesota Winter nights
There’s something about those Minnesota nights, when the sky is so clear that it seems as though you are looking at an entirely different galaxy. The only thing that keeps you in reality is the accompanying biting cold that exploits every hole in your layers of defense. And as much as I may complain about the cold, there still remains a bit of pride that I can still stand and stare at the sky and enjoy this weather. Those nights send me back to one of my favorite memories. At camp, up north, in that last week of December, getting ready to greet the New Year with all its promise and potential. As everyone hurries from one building to another, I linger behind, staring up at a sky so clear, the only haze is the Milky Way. I walk down to what will be, in a few months, a sandy beach. But for now, it is covered with snow so that you cannot tell where land ends and the lake begins. You can hear it though. The water moans beneath its icy captor. It calls to the sky, its love, which it normally reflects to show its adoration. The moon shines brightly, casting shadows of slender, bare branches that shiver in the breeze. Their spirits are slumbering among the roots, but from time to time, a brave one ventures up to tend her branches, in order that they will bloom quickly when the season changes. And it is just me and God and there exist no words to describe my awe at the creation that surrounds me.
There’s something about those Minnesota nights, when the sky is so clear that it seems as though you are looking at an entirely different galaxy. The only thing that keeps you in reality is the accompanying biting cold that exploits every hole in your layers of defense. And as much as I may complain about the cold, there still remains a bit of pride that I can still stand and stare at the sky and enjoy this weather. Those nights send me back to one of my favorite memories. At camp, up north, in that last week of December, getting ready to greet the New Year with all its promise and potential. As everyone hurries from one building to another, I linger behind, staring up at a sky so clear, the only haze is the Milky Way. I walk down to what will be, in a few months, a sandy beach. But for now, it is covered with snow so that you cannot tell where land ends and the lake begins. You can hear it though. The water moans beneath its icy captor. It calls to the sky, its love, which it normally reflects to show its adoration. The moon shines brightly, casting shadows of slender, bare branches that shiver in the breeze. Their spirits are slumbering among the roots, but from time to time, a brave one ventures up to tend her branches, in order that they will bloom quickly when the season changes. And it is just me and God and there exist no words to describe my awe at the creation that surrounds me.