We had two days of snow. Beautiful snow. It started coming down as I was headed for bed Thursday evening.
Friday morning I awoke to 2 inches of fluffy, bright white powder blanketing our neighborhood.
I love the snow. It touches the child in me, reminding me of the wonder surrounding us in this mysterious world we live in.
Everything slows down into the rhythm of real time, not the sped up impression of time that our society and technology would have us believe is real.
Sound has a hushed, reverent quality about it. Our attention is drawn to the sound of creaking tree branches, the small thud of snow falling from cedar boughs.
I couldn’t wait to get out in it. I donned my coat, hat, gloves, and boots…then headed out to shovel pathways; to the studio, the mailbox, to the car.
There’s something about the simple act of shoveling snow. It’s best if you meet the snow when its fresh, before anyone has stepped on it, compacting the snow and making it harder to move.
Fresh, untouched snow moves easily with no expectation of where it is going, happy to land wherever the shovel places it; the scrunch, scrunch, scrunch of your footsteps grounding you along the way.
There’s the fresh snow and the compact snow…both are needed in order to shape your path.
After shoveling the snow I stand at the back door, close my eyes and feel the alive-ness of my body awakened by the physical activity.
Then I make myself some hot cocoa and go back outside to admire my handiwork.
Standing on the deck I am overwhelmed with the beauty of the snow, bright white…shining its light into the dark place I’ve been carrying around lately.
“Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow cycles of nature, is a help” ~ May Sarton
Thanks so much for stopping by my friends.
Blessings to you all.