This past Sunday morning we awoke to a beautiful hoar-frost. Every branch, twig, and blade of grass bore a lacy shawl of ice crystals. The above picture is the view out my back door. It looks like something out of Narnia before Aslan returns.
Though winter is not my favorite season in Minnesota, there is no denying it has a special and unique beauty. The world is asleep under a frozen blanket. But spring will return, and every brittle branch will become supple, and ice will give way to tender leaves and delicate blossoms.
I am reminded that there are times and seasons in our lives, especially in the writing life. There is a lot of waiting, sowing the seeds of learning, writing, and submitting. Things begin to bloom, agents are gained, partials are requested, the sun shines. Summer storms blow when committees say no, thank you. But then, the harvest comes.
What season are you in right now?