When I rose this morning and glimpsed through the window our frozen pond, I shivered bit. As I gazed at the frost dusting the ice-glazed surface, I marveled at how different it looked just a few months ago, and then I smiled. I smiled because I was reminded of a different day, a different season on those same waters. Treacherous waters they were then, because that was the day the Vikings invaded our homestead.
Since Vikings aren't known for their table manners, the feast was brimming with traditional eat-with-your-hands warrior fare--chicken legs, baby-back ribs, and hotdogs. Yes, Vikings ate hotdogs. Check your history books...but don't tell me what you find.
When the feasting ended, the battle cries faded, and the choppy waters calmed; the warriors slowly trekked home. The day slid into night, the summer into fall, and before we knew it, the year was gone.
But the world never stops turning. As I sit here at my claw-foot desk, with the warmth of the wood stove swirling around me, I can hear the winter wind whistling past my windows. And I know that change is in that wind. It always is. This old cold weather won't last forever, and before long that frozen pond will come alive. The birds will sing, the grass will green, and the calender will loudly proclaim "Spring!".
But let's not rush it. Everything has its season, and I want to appreciate those seasons for as long as they last. And then I'm ready for the next one--especially if it brings with it those vicious Viking raiders, lead by that ferocious clan king who just so happens to snuggle next to me each night.
Did someone just say "Long live the King!!"? Oh, right. That was me...
And I meant it with my whole heart.