Hard work and perseverance are what it takes to climb a mountain both literally and figuratively. Some trails are gentle slopes, others flights of stairs, and still others the metal rungs of a ladder driven into a cliff’s stony face. Finally at the top, the mist clears in the light of the sun and there is the view spread out before you like a banquet. The moment of glory. Made even more precious by the work it took to arrive in that moment. There are always times when I wish JK Rowling’s fantasy of apparating would become a reality and with the wave of a wand I would find myself standing in the moment of glory. But, is it as sweet or even a moment of glory if it is easy to achieve?

I find the most glorious moments of my life to be the ones where I stand breathless and marked by the journey finally seeing all that I have worked and longed for come to pass.

One of my favorite times of the year is Spring.

Finally seeing the snow retreat and little shoots of green breaking through the soil. The song birds ending the silence of the winter days with their return from warmer climes. The night no longer silent and empty but filled with sound once more. When the presence of the sun during the day really means it is warm outside.

It is a time of year that gives hope that things can begin again and second chances can be had. The past winter doesn’t define the future.

There will be life and color again.

At an antiques show this past summer, I came across a vivid seascape painting amid the rows of booths jumbled with aged treasures. The oils glowed as they streaked across the canvas bringing life to a fishing boat resting on the water beside a solitary tree and a shoreline blanketed in grasses.  Ocean waves provided a backdrop until the horizon melted into the warmly colored sky.  Its brightness struck me and I found that I couldn’t stop looking at it.

Nearly every other ocean painting that I have ever seen depicting fishing boats or the sea had been much darker with gray skies, weather beaten wooden structures, and blue gray, sometimes stormy waters. But this painting was bright and alive.  The artist had seen and drawn out the life and beauty in the scene.  Where other artists had seen a dull gray ocean view, he had seen light and vibrant color.

I have found that it is the same with winter. After many months of browned grass, leafless gray trees and frigid white snow, the season loses its charm and quickly becomes ugly.  But there is still beauty in the snow draping the trees after a flurry, light in the shortened days as the moon and stars become clearer and brighter with the fallen temperatures, and color in the orange yellow sunsets, rosy tips of tree branches and diamond rainbows reflected in snow crystals.  Winter has a beauty all its own that is always present.  I need only to open my eyes to its beauty and I too will see in color.