Winter beauty in the now

I still remember the first snowfall here in the wonder of waking to a white world after staying up late to watch the drifts build. I recall getting my camera to capture my first impressions on film in the numbing cold in my extremities.

I have my first memories of when Pesky, the squirrel,  began to call on the deck looking through the window hoping for a handout. Obviously, he has been fed winters before.

I've learned the difference snows: soft fluffy flakes, the wet ones that melt as they hit the ground, the pez snow that retains its round shape, and the slushy snow that is dense and heavy. Some snow clings to the leaves and the branches of trees waiting for the warmth of the sun to slowly melt it, dropping with resounding plops to earth. It also adheres to shovel when you're trying to clear a path or driveway and necessitates pounding the shovel to knock it free. There is the snow that flurries while the sky looks perfectly clear, the one that comes through heavy mists in the dense snow that whips in the wind, the sky darkened with storm clouds and freezing cold.

The snow hasn't changed but people here have. They've stopped seeing the beauty around. When the light hits, the snow still sparkles like diamonds. Bird and animal tracks can still be seen imprinted on the hills, decks, and right up to the door; and they still shiver at their feeders even when they too are being covered in white powder.

There are days when everything becomes as shades of black and white, days when the mountains are hidden from view or stand out in dark relief. There is ice that forms when the snow melts in the runoff freezes as the temperature drops and can be quite dangerous.

It hasn't been three months yet and it doesn't snow every day but I hear often how people are sick of the snow, how beautiful it is up here in spring or summer. The same thing they once said about the beauty of God's country in winter snow.

I marvel already at the small golden freesias blooming in one small spot in the green of many bulbs sprouting their promise of undisclosed color. I admire all the new variety of birds that come to feed in my yard and I see beauty still in the magnificence of God's creation everywhere I look and am grateful for each new day and all the wonder it brings.

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