beauty.

The weather. It's the default topic of discussion. "Did you hear that storm last night? Man, the lightening shook my house." "It sure is cold out there." "How much hotter do you think it can get?" "It's so windy outside I nearly got blown over! Whew!" And this is the nature of life. It's something we can all relate to. It's something we are all exposed to, if we leave the house. 

Right now, here, it's extremely cold outside. Scarves are no longer worn simply for appearances. They are necessary. The ice patches on the roads tempt my tires to spin. I am thankful when they resist. It's perpetually gray outside. White stands out against the dark of the day. 

I went outside the coffee shop where I work yesterday to take out the trash. The dumpster is in the alley, between two incredibly large buildings. They are old, with beautiful old windows and beautiful old doors, and contrasting cumbersome pipes coming out of their sides, letting me know someone somewhere on the inside is a bit warmer.  The look of the smoke or moisture or whatever it was coming out of the pipe against the starkness of the building and the day was really just breathtaking. I threw the waste into the dumpster with that thought, which accompanied a little bit of a chill. I walked back into work, glancing up at the white ice draping the steps across the street, with the thought that really, it was just an incredibly beautiful day. 

So much of life is how we interpret it. I have to be careful to not let others interpret it for me.