Crystals

Winding down the final days of another round-trip through the solar system. That anniversary comes two weeks from Wednesday during the longest night of the year. It is customary, I suppose, to wait the additional week and a half just to be absolutely certain the sun is returning before giving in to celebration. One should never be too hasty about such matters. Today I saw the squirrel that lives in the Norway spruce tree behind my house hard at work insulating its nest again. I startled it as it rested on the fence post, arms embracing as many leaves as it could hold. It would have to drop its morning's work if it had to jump away quickly, so it paused, waiting to see what I would do. I talked softly, "Don't worry, I don't want your leaves. Go on up." It turned its back to me and jumped up the tree the slow way. I could hear its partner - it's sibling? - packing leaves away already in the nest above. The snow has roused them into busy action. It has coated everything and turned the world a few different shades of white and gray, little else. It makes you long for the crackle of well-seasoned logs radiating warmth into a circle of flickering faces. It reminds us of something deep in our past, the challenges overcome in out-migrations across millenia. And that is nothing compared to the memories carried in the conifer spruce, who have ridden the vagaries of time and place over epochs, remaining eminently adaptable. The snow is not life's enemy, by any stretch. In some corners, it is considered part and parcel of life's journey, an activity worthy of pursuit, a condition challenging in all the right ways toward maturity, or knowledge, or whatever your tribe might have called it. The spruce stands as a shining example of the knowledge possible, if you have the time.

Meanwhile, the United States pours one tenth of the entire world's salt supply onto its roads every winter to keep automobiles moving. More outspoken democrats, particularly, but not exclusively, from the House, seem bent on keeping the momentum through the lazy holiday season. Hold the mongerers feet to the fire. Leave no refuge. Does he know he's a prisoner of the White House? Chances are he doesn't. His practices insulated him from the get go. No matter what the facts, he believes he has been called to send your sons and daughters to kill their sons and daughters. His hubris is staggering - even in this world. It is time to leverage the political gears toward root ideas like equality, justice, individual - not corporate - liberty. It is time to take our heritage seriously. Cultural differences notwithstanding, most United States citizens, a majority I would say, have lost too much under this dynasty, under these inhumane policies of deceipt, to stand by in tacit support or silent opposition any longer. No snow flake like another, no day yet lived yet unheroic.