Driving along slickening streets amid traffic snarled by snowfall, it’s easy to watch nature with lenses turned dark with discontent. It’s inconvenient, it’s dangerous, it’s getting old. But this afternoon I was lucky to be gazing out the window as a dozen deer made their way into the field where buckets of corn awaited, as they do every evening. From yearlings to seasoned adults, they came, the yearlings leaping and playing and kicking up snow, the adults a little more sedate. Their heavy, dark coats stood out against the pristine white of the falling snow. And just like that, I’m handed a lesson in being grateful for what is, no matter if it’s rain or snow, sunshine or clouds, 8 degrees cold or 72 degrees warm. So I’m grateful, tonight, for having eyes and wits to not only see but to be willing to consider there is beauty in everything, even snowfall when a sniff of spring would be welcome.