silent snow

Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

When the girls and I headed outside this morning for an early walk, I surveyed the gardens.  I noticed that the clover cover cropped had been carefully mowed down over night.  Suddenly, Chula Grace took off running and barking, and in the soft glow of sunrise, I spotted a fat bunny hopping towards the safety of the woods.

After regaining a sense of peace (and the feeling in my arm), I could hear it–various forms of birdsong filling the trees earlier in the morning than usual.  Could it be true?

We came inside, and I looked out the back kitchen window.  Birds swooped at empty feeders.  I grabbed the scoop and hurriedly filled each one–bunnies munching on clover, birds feeding early–the sign of changing weather!winter walk

For the second year in a row, we have had a pitiful winter season.  Well, pitiful if you are a native of my hometown, and you love snow.  Two years of cold rain can make anyone miserable–even my summer  lovin’ friends have agreed that snow is better than this.

Please don’t get me wrong.  I’m not speaking of the blizzards that have paralyzed towns or caused hardship.  I mean a simple snow, white and soft, quiet and calm that gives everyone a much needed break after weeks of damp cold and grey skies.

There is something about snow that soothes the earth for a moment.  I’ve always said the silence you find in snow is different than any other.  When you stand in it, it becomes not just the absence of noise, but takes on the presence of peace.  And if you stay with it long enough, it will make you forget about the complexity of life and allow you to revel in its sweet simplicity.

I must not be the only one who thinks so because my recent facebook status posts about longing for real winter weather have brought more “likes” than I’ve seen in awhile.

And so, I perch at my back window this morning and notice the signs telling me that change is coming.  Out of curiosity, look at the forecast and the 30% chance has increased to 50% by Saturday.

I place my hope in the birds and the bunnies, and I pray for the grace of a good old-fashioned snow day.  Even if it is Saturday.

 

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