Sunshine is a rare commodity these winter days where it seems like every other day it is snowing another 3-4 inches and the snow blowers are all rattling off their “2 cycle engine hummmm” in the neighborhood. The beaver full length fur coat has made its grand appearance on more than one occasion when the thermometer outside our kitchen nook window hits below that big zero degrees mark. I think our furnace ran nonstop for two or three days last week when our Winter Queen refused to let up on the frigid air blasting through every nook and cranny of this old and beloved house.

Despite all this, I treasure winter. I really do. I know; I’m strange. There is such deep and mysterious beauty to all of it. I have been enjoying my car rides to work in the morning–turning East onto the mini expressway in Waukegan and seeing that wide expanse of steaming water called Lake Michigan. The sun rising over it and penetrating the irises of my eyes. Passing the small stretch of woods coming into Lake Bluff and having the sun dance through the trees and play chase with me. I can feel it tapping me on the shoulder and running away and then pouncing on me again. And then I come into wide open areas where the sun is rapping on my window, coating what skin is visible and I feel winter freckles emerging. Ahhhh, sun.

I let the sun kiss me tenderly and it feels like medicine for my achy and arthritic soul.

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