The broom that lines the old road along which we walked this morning was glowing gold, the same rich yellow that the blooms of June display.

But this is mid January.

Rather than June’s golden bloom this was winter’s answer to springtime vibrance—  thick gold lichens along the length of the dead grey broom twigs. Winter life. Life in a different mode.

These branches won’t bloom next spring. They’ve spent themselves already.  But their winter glory is beautiful all the same.

But its not simply the sight of this surprising beauty. Its also the thought it stirs in me—  the thought that this brilliance doesn't emerge from the broom itself, but rather is a gift, covering its dead twigs. It is clothed in a glory that's given.

A good reminder. Another glimpse of grace amidst the ordinary meanderings of the day.