Darkness looms black beyond my windows this Christmas Eve morning. Yet, I know that beyond that darkness, when light touches this magical day, are a thousand images of beauty in unexpected places. As a writer, I focus intently on words and paper and computer for hours a day, sometimes too many hours a day. When my heart and eyes cry out for relief, I abandon the confines of my house and seek the natural world and its inspiration. Pine boughs frosted with snow. Naked maple limbs reaching up with curved elegance. Rounded snow drifts backed by mixed forest in shades of grey, black, and white, the scene an impossibly intricate pen and ink drawing. And the brook, with all its changing moods.

Brook Art

One recent afternoon, I escaped the words that wouldn’t come and walked alongside Matheson Brook. A cold snap had laid icy hands on moving water and molded it into corrugated roads, artistic clods, and a collage of wrinkles. My soul drank in these images so far beyond my abilities as a wordsmith. They fed me, sharpened my saw, and reconnected me with the earth, which is such a big part of my writing.

So, go out and explore a bit of nature today, and may you find your own version of wrinkled ice for Christmas.

If you enjoyed reading this post, I’m also blogging at the Romance Writers of Atlantic Canada site today (http://atlantic-canada-romance-writers.blogspot.ca/), with a post called Of Christmas Trees, Mystery, Magic, and Gourd King Wenceslas. I hope you’ll drop by. Merry Christmas!