Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Our first snow of the season...

And so we had the first snow of the season... there's something special about the first snow of the season. The air is infused with magic, and you can't help but be captivated by the sparkling, crystalline white flakes as they flutter and fall from the sky...

As you would imagine, I had to go out to the garden! No matter how cold it may be outside, Nature’s call is always stronger than cold, or rain, or whatever capricious fluctuation the barometer might indicate.

So here I am in the midst of this strange world formed by tiny pieces of frozen water bonded together, thinking how marvelous, and unexplainable, snow is.
As I walk in this familiar, yet strange dwelling where white pervades the vision, I thinking how much I have changed through the years, and how delightful winter is when you’re surrounded by people you love. Friends and love ones is what make all the difference.
My little world rests under the spell of snow... and silence. I want to hear the hallowed sound of silence; and this white vastness filling every corner inside! Nothing moves, nothing disturbs the sacredness that has descended upon the land, no human voice defying harmony, no barking dog, not the sound of a distant vehicle. I love it! This is the time when I’m sure I can see angels dancing down the path...
White sea-foam clumps in wind-tossed tree branches, and then, behind my back a soft fluttering of wings! Something takes flight behind me; perhaps an intruder myself in this wonderful wonderland of silence and nature, I have disturbed the peace of a winged friend? Oh I think so.
Most people who feed backyard birds find that winter is the busiest time of the year. And I do believe that... The falcons that make our garden their dwelling place each year have already arrived... I have seemed them; seem their vigilante gaze upon the land and surrounding areas, but they haven’t been to the garden yet. I am waiting for that precious moment with the enthusiasm of a little child.
It’s wonderful—the leaping free spirits of birds, the dream of a snowy land, and to sense the miracle of life in everything which is natural, and then, behind me... a safe and warm nest to call my own. My home!
And thus, “winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: It is the time for home”—Edith Sitwell, British poet.