Ahhh, the power, the ruthlessness, the gentleness of Mother nature,
She who can make old volcanoes awaken, relics of forgotten times stirring and erupting to create havoc in a modern age.
She, who can cause such disruption, impressing us with both her terrible beauty and her unpredictable force.
She who can make the waves rage and writhe in an seemingly neverending battle of ecstasy and agony, good and bad, love and hate.
She who in more gentler moments can kiss your cheek with a cool breeze on a summer day, lap the shore with cautious caresses, spring forth buds that lay hibernating deep within the warmth of the earth and continue to nourish and nurture the lives within.
She who has spun the fanciful frosted filigree of ice-lace fretwork upon my window, creating an artwork so inspiring, so intricate, so fragile, so delicate.
I just wish she’d spun it on the outside of my window and not on the inside.
So bloody cold!
She better Spring forth soon.
