The days are getting longer. The shift of time, of movement and light is almost imperceptible, but it's there. These winter days, seemingly endless, are as different from one another as the next. At this minute the sun is shining, bursting even, all over the white snow and the naked trees. It feels good to greet it with my bare skin, between layers of wool and scarf and coat and hat, I can feel its heat enough to keep the biting cold at bay. And tomorrow? Maybe gray. More snow, more ice. Maybe it will all melt to reveal the brown earth, not dead but waiting. For now, we cocoon ourselves in heavy layers and pull our blankets tighter, clinging to what heat and light we can find. We surrender to bigger forces. We keep dreaming.