December 5, 2009
It snowed today. I know that’s not exactly a newsflash – a lot of people woke to snow. I knew before I opened my eyes the white stuff was falling. A friend who lives nearby tipped me off to something. Around here in the winter, if you don’t hear the wind at night, it’s snowing. Being a bit of a doubting Thomasina, I’ve paid attention and found she’s correct.
The weather forecasters didn’t call for much accumulation, so my other half ordered me to put my boots on and accompany him to town. Amused that he just had to get out in the snow, I obeyed (not something I ever promised to do, you understand, but I figure it doesn’t hurt once a year). We hopped in my trusty 4x4 and off we went. After about a mile, he dropped all pretense of needing to go to the home improvement store. We made a left and headed for the top of the mountain.
There is something beautiful, and peaceful, about an empty country road. A feeling of isolation descends, and worries fade. What is unseen beyond the trees no longer exists.
The feeling intensifies when the trees and ground are covered with snow.
We stopped on a remote stretch of the road, opened the windows to the cold air, and cut the ignition. Without the sound of the engine to interfere, we sat and listened. When the world is covered in white, so far from the background noise of civilization, you can actually hear the snowflakes hiss as they settle against each other on the earth.
I’d brought along a travel cup full of coffee to share, and when it was empty, we moved along, making it all the way to the end of the road without passing another vehicle.
Our little jaunt had a profound impact on the rest of our day. There has been no television, no music playing, no keyboard clicking busily by the hour, just the sporadic tapping of the email addict as both of us touched base with our private worlds. We sat at our dining room table, watched the snow fall until dark, and shared the peaceful sounds of a house whose occupants are, for now, in harmony.
The snowfall is over. Darkness obscures the view out our window. Things are back to normal.
The television is on, and I'm happy at my keyboard, looking for the secret words hidden between the keys.
KC Kendricks
http://www.kckendricks.com
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