In Corde Hiemis Nivumque

I don’t write as much about outdoors as I would like to.

A thousand curses upon an election year now in the past.

Speaking of the past…

We like to think of Winter as the end of the year.  It’s not.  In both Christian and Calendar standpoints, Winter marks the start of the new year, not the end of the old (that would be Autumn, the last season).*

And so, just like fresh snow on the ground, this winter isn’t just a time for gloom and death–it’s the start of preparation for new life.

Winter, for gardeners, is a time to make sure you’ve got your little pots and seeds and grow media and stuff.  It’s a time to remember how the last harvest went and start planning on what you want to do (or do differently) next time.

It’s also a time of preparation.  Spring will be when animals get frisky and produce tiny adorable foods-to-be.  That’s like the regular season in football.  Winter is the practice and meetings and learning the playbooks and whatever.  It’s the time that will lay the groundwork for the rest of the year.

And so, I’d recommend that we look at winter as an opportunity for planning, for preparation for the exciting things to come in the next stage of the year.

 

*Yep, I totally know that the earliest Roman calendars put the start of the new year in March, and that January 1st wasn’t totally established until pretty recently.  Just endure for a little while here; I’m going somewhere with this.

Dum Spiro Spero (pro Trump)

Here’s what I want for a Donald Trump Presidency.

In a word, conversion.

The story goes that Thomas Becket did not want Henry II to name him Archbishop of Canterbury.  Becket had a great life (he reportedly used gold, uh, silverware while the king had to use, uh, silver).  Becket was the king’s Chancellor and had no inclination to mess up his gig.

However, once invested with the episcopal robes, Becket changed.  He sold his goldware (?) and lived simply, often quarrelling with his former boss.

Eventually, Henry’s loose-lipped “Can no-one rid me of this damnable monk” or whatever put a very final end to their friendship.

And this is what I want for Trump.  I want Trump to metaphorically wet himself as he takes the oath of office, realizing the awful and terrible impact of what he’s gotten himself into.  I want him to wipe the damn smirk off his face and become a changed man.

I do not like Trump , even though I’m sympathetic to many who found themselves voting for him (which I’ve written about).  But the Creator has done far more with far less.

2016 was the year of Mercy (as proclaimed by the Holy Father).  Here’s to hoping that 2017 can be a year of humility (and repentance, where necessary).