All Shall Be Well

     At my home, on the edge of Gatineau Park in Western Quebec, January is winter. The daylight hours are short, and the trees seem to be asleep, moving only passively when the wind demands and imposes it.

     When they emerge from this time of apparent inactivity, the trees will be ready to deliver the riotous celebration we call Spring. They will be renewed. They will have arranged their reserves into accessible resources. They will allow life to burst into physical reali...

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