Snowberries

This is an excerpt from the weekly News-Loveletter. If you would like it sent to your inbox directly (with all the other juicy bits, including a mini joy practice), you can add yourself to my mailing list here.

I’m going to come right out and say it. In an alternate universe, I’m a fairy. And I eat Snowberries, one per tiny plate, for breakfast. Those silken white berries shine so bright that I cannot help but squirm inside with delight when I see them.

Amongst decayed and dying foliage where tiny buds dream of spring, I spy clusters of Snowberry and catch my breath every time. Here is a fruit unphased by frost, untroubled by the storms. When pickings are slim for the Robin and the Thrush, Snowberry announces herself with regal aplomb. Her bushy parts are immensely hardy and drought-tolerant, providing cover and nesting sites for an array of birds and insects.

But the thing that always gets me is that clean, white berry. I think we all have some Snowberry in us, don’t you? A place we shine when least expected. We each have or do something that stops others in their tracks and gives them hope in their darkest hour. Something magical. And Snowberry reminds me that that’s true. It reminds me of my fairy nature, too. <Twinkle, twinkle.>

What aspect of you offers others sustenance when they see life as drear all around? How do you connect with your inner magic in darkest times?