About a half inch of packed ice covered Vermont’s Route 7A between Arlington and Bennington on Monday morning after a tricky storm last weekend began with snow and ended with rain. A half-hour commute to work stretched into roughly fifty minutes, not bad considering. I still do not understand winter road conditions in New England, nor how it was possible to navigate that well-traveled stretch of highway, to say nothing of a few miles on awful looking secondary roads. On that same day there were five traffic fatalities elsewhere on icy roads in the country.
I did not slide once on the way to work Monday, my first day. I swear, I do not know how this was possible. Handsome Chef Boyfriend usually has an explanation, and sometimes I sort of get it. This time he told me the plow trucks leave crusty ice on purpose and apply sand to it, which is better than trying to scrape. Huh. Well, if you insist. I am happy whenever I can come and go in one piece.
On Tuesday and Wednesday I drank in a gorgeous sunrise and sunset, my throat catching a couple of times at the incredible beauty of waxing and waning daylight bathing frosty ridgelines: the fleeting prize punctuating winter’s darkness. I tried to pay attention to the road, still new to me, along with everything else going on at the moment.
The work week ended well. My world is upended again, thank the universe. I mean that. The biggest work is still to come and has everything to do with finding balance. I have always made bits and pieces work, but lately the squeaky wheel has gotten the grease. Every. Single. Time. The challenge as ever is making all the gears grind smoothly at once. Call it wholeness of body, mind, and spirit. Or aligned planets, choose your metaphor.
I leave you with the simple, stunning beauty of today’s sunset, and no metaphor, which it does not need anyway.