Sunbeams for Saturday
The first sunbeams of the year. The frost-covered fields still hold their breath, but there’s the promise of spring already. A moment not rushed, not forced—just there. Like the quiet artist within, patiently waiting, not drowned by the noise of expectations. Yesterday, the farm was alive with different rhythms—firewood stacked with precision, songs rising from the piano, and talks bubbling over a shared meal. Everyone brought their own rhythm to the day. None of it went exactly in time, and yet, many beautiful things unfolded. New bird species spotted, old stories told, melodies rediscovered. It was a gentle day of letting go—of plans, of perfection—and allowing the moments to take lead. We adjusted, we paused, we listened. And we found our way through: heart over head, presence over rush. In this season, when the world seems to push faster and louder, maybe there’s a quiet wisdom in these days. To honor the inner, to cherish the moment instead of rolling over it. These one-time fragments of connection and discovery—they’re the gifts we bring on long after the frost melts and the fields awaken to spring.