Winter At Last
It’s brighter now. Sounds of a distant plow scrape snow from asphalt. I hear faint laughter drifting through flakes. There is the soft whoosh of sleds racing down hillsides. And snow continues. The weight of winter presses down but cannot contain childish enthusiasm.
Winter. Thankful for warm fires and home’s cozy glow …
The snow is damp and deep, and though he has promises to keep my husband is still at home. He will venture out a bit later than usual, but for now he’s making waffles for kids who stumble in from early morning barn chores. They stuff ’em and move on out again. They too will head for the hills and chilly thrills.
Snow still falls, accenting every line and crevice. Each branch is stark white and deep black. These wet costumes are heavy, sometimes overpowering. Even yesterday’s snowman seems a little soggy and burdened by a new cloak …
Dearest winter, you are stunning.
And sitting here looking from the warmth of home through frosted windows, I adore you. I gaze in wonder at your wild abandon, wondering when your feathery white flakes will cease to rain down upon us. Spring has been beckoning for many days, teasing us with promises it cannot keep — at least not yet. We’d all but given up on such a wintry display. I’ve missed you, Old Man. I’ve missed your clean white brush strokes and quieting effects.
Magnificence wears white.
It falls softly or with great force and either way, it leaves a trail of fresh starts and pleasant views. It beckons to us, calls longingly, “Come out and play!” And if you happen to go walking in the woods on a winter’s day, remember this: you may be walking, but you’re never alone.
I am a writer, blogger, wife and homeschooling mother of three. I love wide open spaces, cooking, gardening, decorating, travel, vintage treasures, sunshine on my shoulders, and bare feet.