Jack Frost
Mother Earth
Father Time
Old Man Winter

Nature is real and alive. It breathes its wintry breath on us, it heats up our souls, it’s the world’s eternal calendar. Fortunately, I live in an area where I get to enjoy all four seasons: I witness the growth of spring blooms, heat waves reverberating off the pavement in summer, the pallet of colors on fall trees, and right now, a man of nature more commonly known as Jack Frost.

He typically is personified as nipping on our nose, but this week, he only made it as far as the front window of the house. His omnipresence tells me he’s just around the corner, waiting for the coldest of mornings to strike again.

I recently returned from a winter Iceland also known as Atlanta, where daytime temperatures reached a balmy 31 degrees. When the plane landed in Omaha, it was 2 degrees with a wind chill of -10 and there were 12 inches of snow on the ground.

I’m reminded again how alive and real nature is as I walk down to the mailbox the next day and Old Man Winter literally takes my breath away.

Until we walk again …