It’s a cold, grey day outside and snow is beginning to waft down yet again.

This winter’s been exceptionally wearisome – and to escape it for awhile I’ve been curled up amongst the plants in my living room.

While lying there and using the time to text family and friends, a bit of bright light came in through the skylights and created a momentary glow in my little indoor jungle.

Knowing these moments don’t last, I did not dare go grab my camera, but instead took a quick image of it on my cell phone.

Seconds later the light faded back into grey as another band of snow swirled past outside.

And although by my technical standards the cell phone camera is a poor replacement for my better gear – this serendipitous image will forever remind me of the gift Nana gave me on a dreary February afternoon.

Living near the continental divide you become keenly aware of watersheds, flow patterns and which ocean the water will eventually end up in.

There’s no question of the final destination.

What you don’t know, when standing by a small mountain creek, is what the path ahead holds.

A mystery we all face.

This winter has been punishing in more ways than one to some of us.

And when you feel completely beaten down you seek for signs, however tenuous, of recovery, rebirth and renewal.

So when I was out in my backyard garden last weekend, turned over some dead leaves and spotted a flash of green sprouts coming up into the sunlight – well, that one bit of emerging life gave me hope for the rest of the day, and into this next week.

It’s not like that one moment will overcome all burdens.

But without that bit of encouragement from Nana now and then, things can start to seem a lot more dire than they really are.