I'm looking through the Creation section of the hymnal this evening, getting ready for worship at Faith House Fellowship tomorrow, and the first verse of All Beautiful the March of Days could have been written for today:
All beautiful the march of days,
as seasons come and go.
The hand that shaped the rose hath wrought
the crystal of the snow,
hath sent the hoary frost of heav'n,
the flowing waters sealed,
and laid a silent loveliness on hill and wood and field.
My eye was caught by snow sparkles and shadow, before I scurried back inside to wrap up in a warm afghan.
My approach to contemplative photography --
Tell about it."
Mary Oliver in "Sometimes"