Winter’s storm has bent the Hollyhock bereft of its summer’s life and beauty. And yet I have been entranced by its image of elegance and grace. This time last year the air was still filled with the dust of drought and scars from wildfires. Today, the Hollyhock caresses the moisture giving the earth a needed drink. Its color and shape create a portal as if to invite one who sees to step through and be transported. As the day walked on the sun’s touch released one small clump of snow to the ground. The Hollyhock sprang upright. A simple touch of warmth. Though it stance made me smile, still, its elegant beauty and portal cannot be denied. And would its stance have gifted a smile had I not first paused to see it bent? And what of the snow that knew such a gentle touch?

Oh how I have struggled to write this scrich. I have not the words to bridge the Hollyhock’s gift with my ponderings of Christmas today. How have we managed to take a season of hope and pin our entire sense of worthiness and love on one day I do not know. One day or season to prove so much. And the pondering that not all who receive gifts also receive love.  I only know the Hollyhock’s graceful bend, the invitation, the gentle caress, and then the warm touch of the sun. Maybe one day I will understand the whisper. For now, may these next few days, and all to follow, gift the beauty of simple presence and warmth.