It’s true what Shakespeare, Tolkien and Chaucer said. All that glitters is not gold. It’s not necessarily glitter either. Not the traditional silver and gold and red sort that comes in tiny vials and makes a mess no matter how careful I am. Is that a piece of glitter on my chin? Probably. I used some last February. Oh sure, glitter adds an extra dose of merriment to craft projects. It’s downright holly jolly right until the moment it spills onto the dining room table and magically morphs into a shovelful that somehow floats onto the floor and slips between the floorboards to live for all eternity.
I prefer nature’s glitter.
On a cold, crisp morning just after sunrise, my neighbor’s red rooftop glistens. The grass is thick with Jack Frost’s handiwork—a hint of winter to come. Frost that will melt away by the time I finish my last cup of coffee.
A reminder of simple, peaceful beauty during this dazzling season of red and green.
During this time of tragedy in California and around the world.
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
Norah Jones, December