The brook is a canvas of ice. I am in the chill. Plans change. Here is a new day, full of surprise and possibility. I am content to slush around my lovely, mucky swamp, looking at ice pictures. I don’t find that much of interest, but looking is a pleasure. I have no expectations. Being outdoors in a new day is what matters; whether in boots or barefoot. A day like this, my heart is pumping with gratitude and with love and concern for the people and places I love. Lots of things seem uncertain and out of focus and topsy turvy. But, in the late afternoon, after a visit from a dear friend, cozy by my fresh lit fire, I feel even more fresh and renewed as I look up at the sky over the icy river and see the moon, and walk under it, with Suzi and Charlie and Frank. And Frank says, isn’t it nice to be outside? Our feet crunch over the leaves. All the branches reaching, reaching and the moon is watching, steadying all.