This morning, the world is alive
I woke up already knowing today would be beautiful. I woke up because the light changed, and the light's so bright, because of all the snow.
Birds were playing in the trees beyond the panes of my window, suddenly clearer, no longer camouflaged by the brown branches, because they're not just brown any more. It was a joy to see. Sheer, instictual happiness, harnessed by the birds shoving snow off of snow-covered boughs, the cats whose legs disappear when they stalk through the gardens, and the rabbits who don't like getting their feet cold. There's little footprints everywhere.
The sun tumbles through the windows here. It feels warm, but not enough to melt the snow, whose weight bends and distorts the trees as they try to reciprocate, to embrace the masses of white as it bears down upon them.
I sat up in bed to watch it for a few minutes. The clouds were pink and white, small little light puffs floating about lazily. The sun was just coming up, and the shadows it cast were making shapes on the lawn, but the light was sometimes fragmented by the clouds passing in front of its rays. Whatever fluctuations the scenery went through in those few moments I sat watching, nothing detracted from its beauty, nothing made the feelings it gave me lessen; it was added to, built upon, intensified, amplified, made better.
I finished a book, too. Here are the final sentences:
"There was mist on Midsummer Eve, mist when we drove into the dawn. He said he would come back. Only the margin left to write on now. I love you, I love you, I love you."
Dodie Smith ~ I Capture The Castle
(Thank you, Grace, for letting me borrow it. It was one of the best books I think I've ever read).