SNOW

It snowed and it snowed, and now my yard, trees, and patio are covered in a lovely white blanket. I had assumed that it was too early to really snow, but I was wrong. My leaves have not been raked.

Snow makes us realize that nature waits for no one. The cars must be cleaned off, winter jackets taken out, and boots! However, there is a stillness when activity slows down. There are no dog walkers, just a few brave souls that dare to trudge the sticky snow, dogs in tow.

It is the time for stew and warm soups, of reading by a well-stocked fireplace. It is the time to observe and to reflect. As a child, snow was always a thrilling time. It was the time when my mother would load me on a toboggan to hold the groceries as she pulled me home. I always remember the snow being pushed to the side. Sometimes, she pulled me in a sled with red metal runners. It did not take long for the runners, once shiny, to become coated with salt and rust! We were conquering the snow.

As I got older, I would test my snow boots and try to find the biggest snow pile. It was the time to make snow forts in the schoolyard and to watch as, for a moment, the adult world seemed to slow. I would also ride a 6-seater wooden toboggan by myself standing up, holding the rope like reins for a wild horse. We now call it snowboarding, but for me, it was far more exciting. When it appeared that I was headed for a crash and there was, beside me, deep soft snow, I would abandon my toboggan and leap to the side and roll in the snow. The snow was like a soft blanket except it packed my boots and would enter my mittens that my mother knitted, freezing my fingers and my exposed wrists.

The snow has ceased to fall, and it is likely I am too late to rake any leaves from my yard. My bicycles are stored in my shed, dry and safe where they will rest until the spring. I will put away my cycling gear and replace it with sweaters! For now, I sit beside my roaring fire that is pumping out heat into my living room. The flames lick the outside glass of my fireplace insert as the smoke rises into the still air, as if in subtle protest!

It is the time to read, the time to reflect, the time to allow the stillness to enter into me.