The trees, now naked of leaves, stand proud in the woods behind my house. They hold their strong bodies against the cold and rise up to the sky, rise up with their arms open in thankfulness to Creation for the year that has been, rise up in reflection and praise.
The birch trees twirl in the breeze with open hands like whirling Sufis, reuniting heaven and earth. The pine and fir trees, heavy with snow, bow their heads and scatter their resinous incense on the air. The oak trees feed acorns to the squirrels who have slept in, and protect nuthatches and wrens with their stout branches. 

We slow down, turn inward, and search for guidance to renew our tired hearts and minds. We become trees and return to our roots. Some of us will read books looking for inspiration, as well as momentary escape. Some will cook stews and soups, bake cinnamon bread and fruit pies. Some will sit by the window with a hot cup of oolong or peach tea and write down all the thoughts that have followed them this year wanting more of their attention.

Each morning we rise again and are greeted by the trees, our companions. We feel the turning of the world, and smell the cold scents of wet bark and earth. We watch red-tailed hawks and ravens glide through the sky, and feel our spirits soar.