Sunday, March 1, 2009

Snow Day

There was a nice surprise when I woke this morning. As I made coffee, I glanced out the crack between the blinds and the window sill in my kitchen and noticed the white stuff on the ground. My initial view was through that small gap at the bottom edge of the shades but when I opened them, it was as if I had been transported to another place. I was amazed how during the night, while sleeping, my world had been transformed. The drabness of winter had taken on a new aspect. The sleeping trees with shades of gray that all seem to run together were more distinct now, the snow sharply outlining the differences between them. That monotonous color of the trunks and limbs were given depth and character that were of course there all along but hidden to my view somehow. The white carpet covering the lawns in my neighborhood seemed to reflect light upward enhancing the contrast. It all seemed so pure and clean. Like a fresh start in life after so many mistakes. As if I had been forgiven and blessed.

Snow is so rare here. It’s like finding a gem stone in a mountain of slag. I know there are many people who have it for months at a time, and have a hard time appreciating its inherent beauty. I have lived in places where it must be shoveled and driven in and dealt with. Even when I’ve had to work at negotiating snow, I have always loved it for some reason. To me, it’s like a gift from God. It causes me to stop and look and listen. It brings me peace and an awareness of its power. As I sat on my porch this morning drinking coffee and watching it fall, it struck me as manna softly descending from heaven.

When I was a child, we had snow every winter. For 12 of my 20 years in the military, I lived where snowfall was common. These days, I feel like a stranger in a strange land most of the time. I feel as if I’m living an unfinished life. There’s a troublesome notion that I need to go home. As if I belong in that Ansel Adams photograph and won’t ever be truly at peace until I go.

Today though, it feels right in a small way. The large and small flakes continue to fall. There is an incredible cleanness in the air and the sheer beauty of it all fills my senses. I have so many good memories associated with snow. Rosy faces, cold hands, warm fires all make my heart smile. It makes me happy and brings me peace.

It’s time now. Writing about it all is a good way to remember when the days become unbearably hot but no substitute for being in it. I need to go back outside for a while and take it all in.