Greet them

In the spring, cherry blossoms,

In the summer the cuckoo,
In autumn the moon,
and in winter the snow, clear, cold.

--Dogen (tr. Heine)

I'm a summer baby; I love to fill my eyes with ripening crops. But the hut loves winter.

When snow comes, which doesn't happen every year hereabouts, it brings clarity through the starkness of bare trees and brush, and the invention, new each time, of the unstated promise of white space.

There's not much to think about with snow, which is why it draws the attention of meditators.

Being snowed in, in a warm, tiny space, is adventure, but the novelty wears off quickly and then one discovers one's concentration has deepened.

I tell myself: do not expect or look for such quietude, but do make use of the opportunity. Make tea, crack the books, reach for the highlighter.

After snowmelt begins, sounds return -- cars, ducks, chickens. The creek resumes its song. I remind myself not to regret the return of such "distractions" -- they're not distractions, but are themselves.

Flooding often ensues. The hut, its pier blocks undermined, shifts a little downstream. Oh, well, huh?

Do not expect daffodils, but do greet them. When they bow to spring breezes, maybe bow back.

At one time the Bodhisattva Sublime Light was leaving the bustling town of Vaiśālī to find a tranquil place to practice when he encountered the layman, Vimalakīrti.
“From whence did you come?” the Bodhisattva inquired.
“From a Bodhimandala (holy place),” Vimalakīrti responded.
Unable to accept his answer, the Bodhisattva repeated his question, whereupon Vimalakīrti said: “Straightforward mind is the Bodhimandala as it is without falsehood.”

-- Kusumoto Bun’yū, Zengo nyūmon, tr. Michael Sōru Ruymar (edited)