A Walk in the Snow

 

While lots of people complain about the snow and cold, it is not a real Winter for me unless we have had a few heavy snows or blizzards and frigid spell or two.  I have often written about it

We had a glorious big snow this past weekend.  It was not a three-inches an hour, huge flake, white out, kind of blizzard.  It was not a snowing sideways wind driven blizzard either.   It was rather a very fine snow flurries kind of almost a blizzard.  The accumulation was none the less a very blizzard like 14 inches.  The temperature hovered around freezing so it was a wetish snow, the kind that sticks to tree limbs.  It was beautiful.

On Saturday night, about 10 pm, I decided to take a walk in the middle of the storm.  It does the soul good to wake in a snowstorm.  It did my soul good to get bundled up, booted, hooded, and gloved to trudge through the snow breathing the cold air.  The sleety snow pelting my face at one turn but not at the next.  There was only the light from streetlights the houses in the neighborhood. 

A few fellows were out shoveling their driveways.  They were doing it old school
using shovels.  I just saw them but didn’t hear a thing.  A rabbit crossed my path, took a fright, and ducked into a hole in the snow hole under the bushes. 

I walked.  I don’t recall what I thought about.  But I did think about things, nothing special.  For sure, I cleared my mind.  It was meditative with the metered breathing and steps. 

The night was misty with the snow, like fog but not foggy.  It was like it wanted to be eerie but not even close.  It was as I said a glorious evening.

It was good to be out and walking. 

I took a few photos. In their raw state, the photos didn’t look like what I saw.  I
edited them, I made them black and white, I made them darker, softer, to make it look like how I was feeling and what I saw.

How can one not like a night like that?  It couldn’t have been without the snow, without the cold, without the solitude, and without enough wind to provide a wee bit of white noise.  It might have happened in another season, they all have their charms, but then it would have been spring, summer, or fall vibe.

Next weekend, it is forecasted to be frigid, single digits, an arctic blast. I am sure I bundle more and head out again but this time in the morning.  The snow will crunch more brittle underfoot.  Frigid air cleanses the soul in different way, a more bracing way, as I recall. 

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Kicking off the 18^th year of this project

I recently had a discussion with a friend that has his own blog.  We were talking about the focused topic of his blog in contrast to mine.  I was thinking perhaps I should focus my writing more, but then, I realized what the subtitle of my blog:  A Monthly Letter or Musings and Meandering.  While it is no longer a monthly letter, I am fulfilling my mission as my posts do both muse and meander.

I posted yesterday’s blog posting, The 62^nd Day, on Facebook.   I greatly appreciate the encouraging comments and suggestions friend posted in reaction. 

I close with two of these comments.  Thanks gents.

• Michael Sims:  Keep writing as long as you enjoy it. Even if no one reads it. You will gain the enjoyment and each day polishes your craft.
  
  
• Andrew Kzirian:  It’s been very good. I always look forward to reading it. It always reflects true feelings, compassion, common sense, and often a nostalgia of things that we all experienced, enjoyed and remember with great fondness.