First Snow

Everything that's alive grows from a tiny seed.

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Tuesday marked 12 years since a good friend of mine passed. It was a Monday in January when winter took a life and gave its first snow in return. I felt my friend in the snow that day, and I felt him again this Monday, too.

No matter where you fall on party lines, this week was loud. The world watched the opening scenes of America: The Golden Years — starring a nation caught between nostalgia for yesterday and uncertainty about tomorrow. But if you looked close enough, there were also tiny moments of calm, reenergizing joy found on sleds and in the arms of snow angels.

Those tiny moments are where your power lives.

🎵 Everything that's alive grows from a tiny seed. 🎶

While snow blanketed the world on that day in 2013, fire shattered its stillness — leaving behind loss and the weight of what could never be undone. And yet, even in the aftermath of fire, life finds a way back.

Fireweed is often the first plant to grow in the ashes, pushing through charred ground to remind us that renewal is possible. It doesn’t emerge during winter’s harshest storms though. It waits.

Beneath the surface, its roots hold steady, letting the ashes settle — leaving space to honor what was, before spring calls it forward. Once the conditions are right, fireweed transforms scarred earth into art.

Fireweed (Chamaenerion angustifolium).

My friend’s legacy is like that fireweed — steady, strong, and gentle — even in the harshest conditions. Twelve years later, he continues to inspire growth, connection, and kindness.

It's going to get louder. Hold steady, stay strong. Choose to be gentle.

Let's bloom together. 💚

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