roses

Whenever I heard the saying in my youth, “stop and smell the roses,” it would take every ounce of strength to restrain myself from gagging.

This morning I awoke to ice on the deck and a frozen water dish for the animals. Since living in Montana, I have discovered that frost or ice means starting the vehicle early. During the morning “warm-up,” my eyes were drawn to the beautiful sunrise, and the way the light reflected off Lake Helena and into my eyes. Arrays of pink, orange, and red lit the sky to create a beautiful painting in my memory.

So here I am, in the middle of Montana in my pajamas in 25 degree weather, stopping and smelling the roses. At least all the ones that are not frozen.