Winter Solstice 2022 -- Reflecting Light

            Light forms diamonds on icy crystals of snow in the low, slanting winter sunshine, the Winter Solstice arrives, and it's time for me to reflect for a moment before turning my gaze into the returning sun of a new year.
            I'm reminded of many memories of special winter moments where the play of light and darkness becomes so very poignant.  In reality, there is much light that occurs during the darkest days of the year.  The magical phosphorescence of a warm winter snowstorm comes to mind, or perhaps the brilliant chilly starlight that follows the storm as the skies clear and the temperatures plummet.  During these darkest days, when the sun does shine fully, I seem to appreciate its shortened, ephemeral moments more than ever.  The sparkle of sun on snow, or the shimmering of sun on the rare patch of unfrozen water are jewels to cherish.  I also love to see the rays pierce the icicles that hang from trees, cliffs, stream cascades, and roof eaves.  And then there's the winter moon rising high in the sky illuminating the nights with a cold warmth and stark shadows that fall upon the blanket of snow.  Beyond that are the rainbow sun dogs that precede the storms, and beyond that and further north, for some, the Aurora Borealis.
            It seems that light is more precious in winter, like shade is cherished in summer, or like warm breezes in spring and cool moist breezes in autumn.  And as I consider that light, I also consider and reflect on the magical moments that made up the year, especially those outdoor moments.
            Each month this year held a special memory:  I recall a January day skate skiing on perfect cold snow in brilliant sunlight beneath deep blue sky and bright sun.  For an hour in February, I ice skated on the glass clear frozen surface of a huge lake at sunset.  In March there was a moment where the cold spring snow turned magically into running water.  April brought rain and flowers, and May more rain—the first warm rain of the summer, and fruit blossoms.  One May day found us kayaking on a Wyoming lake beneath white, snowy peaks feeling a warm wind and rain that within a day would bring the entire snowpack down in a massive mountain flood.  In June, more warm rain fell, and mountain wildflowers greeted us on a forgotten trail where we walked with the moose, deer and elk.  July brought some rare and beautiful thundershowers and a few mornings paddling on glassy calm waterways.  In August I found edible wild mushrooms and savored their freshness as they simmered in butter and melted in my mouth.  September was hot enough to make me wish for winter, but late in September we woke to see a dusting of snow high in the mountains.  In October it rained even more, such a wonderful thing, and we escaped to the Colorado River for a short trip on its swollen muddy floodwaters, the days still hot, but the nights moist and cool.  And in November it began to snow and become cold, so out came the cross country skis!  And as December commenced, so did the writing of my next book—an enjoyment to work on during those long, dark nights.
            Not all memories of this past year are so magical, nor so great. World events seemed to worsen as well. But as I see those rays of sun angled low and illuminating the world with slanted light, I choose to reflect on good things and hope for the coming new year.