I so love waking up in the winter to several inches of snow, the outside world transformed into a magical winter wonderland. So many possibilities, things to do, places to go. To the nearby hill for sledding? Across the road to ski? To our favorite mountain to hike? There is always such excitement mixed in with a lot of snow. And of course there is the knowledge of a wood fire and a steaming mug of hot cocoa afterwards.
But just as much, I love the possibilities of snow just beginning to fall.
There is such hope in the freshly fallen snow crystals against the deep color of the evergreens;
so much possibility in the sepia of powder dusted rocks and branches;
such incredible beauty in the lacy designs tiny snowflakes drape on the dried stalks of last summer's colors.
The dark skies tell of a winter to come, quietly. This is not the anticipation of the big exciting snow day that
could happen tomorrow, rather it's a gentle, soon forgotten enjoyment of the beauty of today. For the littlest snow makes beautiful all the dormant and dead plant matter, it gives depth to the landscape around us. It makes me stop in my tracks for a moment at this time of
in-between and really, deeply savor this time of year with its chills, its grays and its unassuming late autumn days.
No big snow came. But I'm grateful for the little snows, for they get me ready for this season of anticipation, of
almost theres and I
not quite yets. Advent begins next weekend. I am ready.
