I watch the news as it reports most of the country being paralyzed by snow. Though I live on a lake in Central Florida and normally am surrounded by great blue herons and white ibis, I have also experienced the effects of an abnormally cold winter.
Today is a dreary day. The bright Florida winter sun is hidden by gray clouds. The children who normally play at the lake have opted to stay indoors. Dog owners hurry their furry friends to complete their "business" so they can return to the warmth of their caves. I open my windows to take in the crisp air, all too aware that in a few short weeks, the only cool air I'll get is from the air conditioner.
I'm comforted to know this is but a season. Like all other seasons-even long ones- this, too, shall pass. The time has not gone to waste. The climate was not lost on me. I had no trouble today hibernating in my house, sitting down at my computer and creating prose. The sunshine did not lure me to the outdoors, nor did the laughter of children beg me to join them at play.
No, today I sit with keyboard in hand and create all manner of romantic suspense for my readers of tomorrow. I'm grateful for this day, grayness and all. God knows best how to create the perfect day in which to work. I look through the grayness and know the seeds that are planted in this season of gray will soon bloom into fragrant prose!
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