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Seizing ‘stopfulness’ from the solstice

Out on Spruce Point winter has settled in early. The homes along Grandview Avenue peer from the snowdrifts like hibernating bears and the spruces that were draped in ermine a few days ago are now as spare and tall as the ship’s masts they once furnished for the Royal British fleet.

Winter mornings near the solstice are still and quiet. Perhaps the one moment when a photograph is the same as video – a frozen moment in time where the late-rising sun of dawn is the color of rose gold. The silence allows for ‘stopfulness’ – that opportunity to stop and observe with all your senses, including the internal monitor that senses the passage of time. As the cold, still air surrounds you and your eyes cast out to the distant horizon, that recorder plays back against the wall of your mind the memories of the past year and former years. In that moment, it seems we somehow set the precious stones of those memories into the framework we will find the next time such an opportunity presents itself.

And then the sturdy chug of a lobster boat breaks the reverie. And, on the day that brings ‘the shortest evening of the year,’ we, too, set the throttle to the work of the day, stamping the snow off our boots, pour more steaming coffee into the cup that warms our hands and count the promises still left to keep, along with our blessings.