Winterberries

To my fellow pessimists…

In winter, our world becomes cold and is ultimately void of life.
Green grasses succumb to soft white blankets and robins leave the trees to themselves in pursue of gentler temperatures. There isn't much to do other than stay inside, enveloped in warm blankets, sipping tea, and longing for better days.
In nature's dormancy it seems that the planet has been robbed of all its beauty, and the lack of loveliness puts us in a state of depression; a chilled, tired, tea drenched, sweater wearing depression.
Sunlight has all but abandoned and left us to winter's icy grasp, and as a result, we feel betrayed.
Snow Shovelling.
Slipping.
Salting.
Winter's a demon…cold, heartless and abusive.

However, in the midst of this torture where grey skies reign victoriously at negative ten degrees, there is a remedy that can cure all despondence. It's small and can be hard to find, but whether in the hearts of forests or out in open fields, once discovered it is a precious beacon of hope to those in need.
The ruby glow of winterberries cast against crisp white is a sign that is often overlooked, but is strong in symbolism nonetheless:
Life in the midst of death.
Beauty in the midst of misfortune.
Simplicity in the midst of perplexity.

These modest little berries send us messages, but it's sad to think that we usually only see them in our greatest times of desperation. 
Think about it. If these fragile little berries can survive harsh winters, then maybe they're a sign to us that not only can we survive the winter season, but that we can make it through the blizzards in our lives as well. 

We need to search for the positives in every challenging situation because when discovered, they can bring us great healing. Whether they are happy memories, or certain people that impact our everyday lives. As inconspicuous as winterberries, these moments and memories, whether buried deep inside us or hidden in plain sight, give us something to believe in. They provide us with hope and reassurance that there is peace in the eye of the storm and a light at the end of each tunnel. 
Memories give us something to hold onto so that when we are forced to go through struggle and pain, we have moments of the past to treasure. If we go through life in pursue of these treasures we may find that when tragedy strikes we are stronger. 

If we keep our eyes open, our minds clear and our heart aware, we might just discover our winterberries in the places that we least expect them. 

When Winter Waltzes In…A Horrible Attempt at Free Verse

When winter waltzes in

It's never subtle

However hard it tries to be. 

Sneakily swiping degrees 

And minutes of daylight 

From our warm lovely summers.
Slowly choking life
And colour
Away from the leaves 
That so graciously
Dress our maples. 
Suffocating them 
So viciously 
That they turn red 
From lack of oxygen…
Or so it seems. 
When winter waltzes in
Crickets go to sleep
And flower petals fall
Pink
Yellow
Blue
Against the earth. 
The geese leave for the tropics 
Honking
As they pass in the grey sky above us. 
The nipping winter wind 
Whistles by
Slow and steady
And then stronger
Chilling our bones 
Like ice.
By November 
Summer is forgotten 
Winter is all we can think of.
Ice
Cold
Wind. 
Hot cocoa becomes our only comfort. 
The smooth
Warm 
Silky taste 
Of chocolate. 
The fire in the hearth 
Glows orange 
Red
And yellow.
The crackling embers 
Sparkling 
Flickering
Against the coal.
Thick grey wool socks
Burgundy track pants 
Green fleece sweatshirts 
The fresh smell of pine 
Balsam
And the luminescent light 
From candles in the room. 
When winter waltzes in
These things keep us cozy. 
Protecting us from the cold
That has taken over outside. 
When we look out 
Our windows
That shield us from the air 
We struggle
To see 
A single speck of life. 
Winter has robbed 
Our world of its beauty
The only thing remaining
The baby pink petals 
Of a single
Closing
Primrose
And soon 
Not even this will remain. 
When Winter Waltzes in
And the trees are naked
Marshmallow fluff clouds 
Cover our dark sky
As the wind starts to howl
Against the crimson brick 
That is holding up our houses. 
Tea brewing 
Branches shaking
Dark settling
Street lights glowing.
Flakes start to fall
Gracefully landing 
And shimmering
Sparkling.
When winter waltzes in.