Walking this morning, without puppy Shadow, except for.a brief foray for him to poop. He was way too reluctant, in this extreme cold, -1° F, with wind chill plunging to -18° F.

But me! I relish cold, especially in brilliant sunshine, like today, and especially dry cold, which this is, more like Jackson Hole, Wyoming, where I used to live, than the typical, bone-chilling wet cold of south central Indiana.

And the brilliant sparkles on the newly arrived inch of snow! Sparkles like a thousand diamonds, with every blink of the eye. And the body, tall Keen boots protecting ankles, revving up to speed, relishing also this rhythmic muscled stride up and down hills, across humpy meadows tunneled with critters, noticing where deer tracks cross, where birds and squirrels  leave their traces, the usual extraordinary branching of bare trees that remind me of the circulatory system of the human body, of nature’s creeks and rivers — all struck bright by the southern sun at 9:30 on this mid-January morning after literally weeks of drippy, cloudy depression, nature’s extended pause as she rests, still, silent, quiescent, in wait  for spring’s’ emergence.

On and on, mile after mile through brilliant wind-chilled sunshine, protecting my gloved thumb and forefinger that threaten to numb themselves into oblivion, alternately blowing on them and holding them tight in down coat sleeves, or thrust into pockets, checking on nose, no, it’s still okay, crunching face enough to make sure circulation still there . . .

I remember standing by our pond in the middle of summer one day, stilled into mystery, when all of a sudden the Soul of the Earth rose up from below and nearly overpowered me, struck me down in thunderous wonder. What is this? Where is this where I, a single embodied sovereign soul, am so privileged to inhabit? What wonder, what mystery, what miracle?

Standing still in summer, or in rhythmic motion in winter, I bow down in gratitude.