I do love the snow.... especially on days that I don't have to get out in it.
I grew up in New England, and enjoyed year after year of feet upon feet of snow. There wasn't a question of IF we would get to go sledding, but WHEN. We'd build forts and slides and tunnels through the snowbank that the plow had piled up on the sidewalks of our neighborhood.
When I was older and not "playing" in the snow, I remember my early morning runs to the high school. The air was, of course, brisk, and most mornings all I could hear was the "crunch", "crunch", "crunch" of my sneakers on the fresh snow. It would glitter in the early dawn, and I found myself deeply connecting with the silence and stillness.
We received a little more than an inch in my neck of the woods. Out of school for the day, we headed to the subdivision hillside. It's a road that we sled down - something I could never do as a child - plows, salt and sand diminished the slidability greatly! The kids had a blast, and I thoroughly enjoyed watching them and catching their grins and laughter on film.
And then, for a moment, after the sledding, and as the kids were playing. I sat quietly by the fire. As I glanced out my french doors, the snow had begun falling again. It was short-lived, but I caught a moment of the silence and stillness.
I love that about winter. Its calling us to silence and stillness. A time to pause, rest and regroup before Life bursts forth again in the spring!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment