One of the first things I do every morning after waking up, before my feet hit the floor, is to check the weather forecast on my iPhone. This morning, I can tell you that seeing "feels like -14F" flash before my eyes didn't do much for my getting-out-of-bed inertia. But once I got rolling and out the door, I was met with a frozen, glittering world. The sun had just broken the treeline to the east and was falling on our front gardens, making the ice crystals that covered the plants shine brilliantly. Of particular note were the Rudbeckia seed head that stand alongside our driveway, covered stem to seed head with frost.
It is these fleeting moments that saturate our senses with awe and joy and become permanent in our memory. Halfway through my short commute to work, the rising sun had vanquished all of the frost and the world returned to its normal muted colors of winter covered by a white blanket of snow. Had I listened to my body's resistance for just 10 more minutes of time in my warm bed, I may never have seen this morning's beauty in the garden. It made ask, how many moments do we fail to turn into memories simply because of our reluctance to act?