Even though we stayed up well past midnight last night for mahashivaratri, I would not have missed waking up in time to see the sunrise before I head to the airport any more than I would miss my daily practice. Each day it is different, but the same. Always, it reveals something of the heart.
We didn’t get snow except for mixed with rain and not enough of that. Some of the magnolias have already browned. I think about the farmers and the fruit trees; have they been patient enough to still be able to fruit, with this return to winter after the long, false spring?