Everything Horses and Livestock® Magazine Feb 2021 Vol 6 Issue 1

Everything Horses and Livestock Magazine ®

The View from the Sliding Glass Door

we can embrace. It seems like the hard part is when seasons come in what we would call “out of season” times. Like the seasons we have been in and are currently walking through. It seems nothing is the same- yet as I look through the doors – The seasons are the same… The sun comes up in the east and sets in the west. The flowers bloom in their season, are pollinated and go to seed. Squirrels are still frantically gathering their nuts, the grass is growing, the rain falls, time marches on… The Lord is still on His throne. He sees. He hears. He knows. The Good book tells about Seasons of change in Ecclesiastes Chapter 3. Where we are told there are times to: be born, a time to die. A time to plant, a time to gather. A

witnessed times of great Joy, as well as times of great sorrow and brokenness, as I prayed and reflected, sitting in his presence… It has held views of my children on their swings-eyes dancing and pigtails flying, as Daddy pushed them over and over- The sunsets it has afforded me are priceless in their beauty…Soaking wet cats, and muddy dogs looking in to find refuge, Chickens pecking at the glass- announcing their desire to enter in to whatever plethora of treats that lay inside… I could go on and on…. Yet, Seasons change. I guess that is one of the great truths

A flash of crimson caught my eye as I passed by the window of the Kitchen. Such a bright sight on a grey January day. It drew me to move to one of my favorite places to look outside- Our sliding glass door. I have spent countless hours looking out these glass doors. I have seen sunshine and rain, blue skies and grey, brilliant pinks and yellows of spring turning to lush summer greens. Autumn colors then fill my view - leaves glowing in their coats of orange, yellow and brown. To showers of Leaves as they release; one after one, in unison littering the green grass with a carpet of multi colors- to the barren stick trees of winter- with their beautiful patterned bark reflecting high lights and dark crevasses. I sit at my Table in front of this oasis and marvel at its wonders. This space has

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