The world was covered in a blanket of white.
The rain that had poured down during the previous two days of unusually warm weather was now frozen, sheathing everything in nearly half an inch of ice, and the snowfall that had followed added the finishing touch, lightly dusting the frozen substance with a layer of fine powder, gleaming in its pristine, untouched state.
Every surface donned a cloak of ice and snow; every tree and shrubbery a natural frozen sculpture. A winter wonderland. A vision of Narnia in the Age of Winter.
As I marveled at the most stunning winter landscape I had seen in years, a random analogy struck me.
Love and solitude are like the seasons, I meditated. Both have their pros and cons. If having love is like summer, where there’s colour and sound and life and vibrancy everywhere, being alone is like winter. There’s still beauty, just in a different form – there are things to be appreciated, and some enjoy it, relish it. Others can’t stand it, and still others prefer it.
And some just don’t mind, I thought, watching my breath rise and fade into the cold air, knowing summer waits in store.