Snow Walk

The snowfall had ended, but it still called out to me across the yard and through the windowpanes. A light Michigan snowfall, but a beauty nonetheless. Inside, the lingering musk of the fireplace hovered in the air, reminding me that I could tuck myself into the worn corner of the couch and reignite the fire, safe and warm inside, protected from the unforgiving wind gusts. But I couldn't stay inside. I just couldn't. The glimmer of the sun dancing along the frozen snow was too captivating to ignore.

The boys and I wrapped scarves around our necks, buttoned up our coats, pulled on our boots, and headed outside. Our boots marked our trail through the backyard and out to the rolling golf course. The wind picked up then, of course, and I tugged my hat down over my ears. My fingers turned numb after only a minute, and I tried to warm them in my pockets without effect. Blocks of ice hid underneath the powder, and we slid around as we made our way across the course, determined to carry on. 

There wasn't a soul in sight. Houses were perched around the perimeter, of course, but that morning was so quiet that you could have sworn that you were the only person in the world. The sunbeams quietly glistened along the unmarred, silver surface of the hills, and as it began to work its way up the sky, it rose majestically and demanded attention as it soared over the tree tops. And in those moments, it was just us and the snow and sun and those beautiful trees, and even though it was so bitterly cold, I couldn't tear myself away. I couldn't, not when the sun was holding court in the land of snowfall.

We tromped through the snow in the way one does when searching for the satisfying crunch of powdery snow beneath boots, and I kept peeking back up at the sun as it watched us make our way. It was almost a shame to keep walking, marring the elegant, smooth surface of the wind-blown powder, but I tried to remind myself that the wind would likely brush our tracks away by nightfall, masking any trace that we had been there.

Eventually we had to turn back, falling down the slope of the course and getting surprised by ice we had missed before. It was so cold out there, and my eyes stung with each gusts, my fingers long gone numb. I don't know if we conquered the snow, but we explored it, and it was beautiful.

 

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Snow Blanket

My fingers and toes were meant for mittens and thick wool socks. They don't stand a chance against the winter gusts, something I am reminded of each time I make it indoors and struggle to uncurl my frozen hands. My fingertips turn bright red, and they feel clumsy as I try to unbutton my coat. Mittens, I try to remind myself. Mittens are warmer than gloves.

Somehow, though, that doesn't matter when the snow comes. I pause to admire the white tree branches and rooftops and run around as though I'm a kid again, all so I can soak in those magical moments. And the first snow of the year? Well, that just brings on even more excitement.

Sometimes it's worth losing feeling in your fingers if it means taking time to savor the beauty of snow quietly covering your surroundings. But maybe I should get a pair of mittens, anyway.

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Snowy Tree Branches

Snow! Snow! Snow!

I was thrilled to wake up this morning to actual snow on the ground and big fat flakes falling from the sky. I was less impressed when DC schools failed to close or have a delayed opening (seriously, we've had classes completely canceled for snow predictions that never actually showed up, yet we can't even get a delay when the snow actually is here??), as I really wanted to spend the morning reading in bed. However, I quickly got over my crankiness (well, most of it) as I walked through the snowy paths to my destination and admired how beautiful everything looked blanketed in that glorious white snow.

No other photos today, just these happy snow-covered tree branches, but this was a good reminder to find the positive, even when my hopes for a snow day from school were dashed. 

Happy snowy Monday!