It's cold out here in Kentucky.
Don Juan climbing rose drooping and encased in ice.
It's a time of barren landscapes after the festivities of December.
I feel a certain camaraderie with the cool, bleak landscape.
Neither of us have much to say right now and hardly anything to offer.
But I know that life is sleeping out there in the gardens, not dead,
God is about to do a new thing in my life.
What about yours?