It might seem that very little happens during the colder months. Leaves have fallen from the trees. There is a crispness in the air that chills the bones as the winter winds come in from the southwest across desert lands and collide with offshore gusts. In the house on the hill the heater is on low from midday. The wind swirling below floorboards and palms bending with the gusts. Yet, the diehard surfer is never put off by the chill. A faithful 'steamer' and clean crisp waves beckon for attention. The husband is delighted and almost skips out the door with anticipation. The wife relaxes and reclines, content in the knowledge that her Prince is doing something he loves. The call for a late morning coffee comes with the suggestion that surfing may be completed. She walks down to Burleigh and into the Vanilla Bean for Ginger Infusion and the promise of a date with her husband, the barefooted surfer.
Later, sitting in the fleeting sun, trying to hide from the breeze, she sits reflecting. Winter is a nice time for that. A touchstone of rememberance in Psalm 139, of value and worth and love. Winter, where a lot happens beneath the surface, hidden from the naked eye. A repositioning, harbouring a season of potential and the promise of Spring - a flourish of growth that will nourish many in the months to come
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