Sunday, February 7, 2021

A white cathedral


February 7, 2021

There are days when events align in magical ways. Today my grandfather would be one-hundred-eleven years old. Today, it's snowing, a wet, clingy snow that turned my woods into a white cathedral. 

My grandparents gave me the piece of ground I built my home on forty years ago. They loved the land and respected it as it provided so much for our family. Food, water, shelter, fuel, privacy, safety, and beauty. The land is a living thing. 

I was up before dawn this morning and settled at the computer. Like so many of us, I have remote controls for all sorts of gadgets and I switched on the backyard floodlights to watch the snow. Keeping an eye on the clock, as soon as I knew the sun, while still hidden by the thick cloud cover, would be above the mountain, Deuce and I went out to take pictures. 

Walking during a snowfall, it's easy to allow the white peacefulness to flow into your soul. The only sounds were those of Deuce's paws crunching through the snow and the calling of the young red-tailed hawk who fledged here last summer and never left. He's claimed my "territory" as his, but I'm sure we can peacefully coexist. If I thought he'd find it and eat it, I'd toss a raw chicken breast his way. Songbirds and squirrels are scarce during a snowfall and he may be in need of a snack. He also likes mice and moles, also scarce at the moment. 

That my grandfather loved this small part of the planet he cared for is not something I question. He did. I know it cost him to hand it over to me and is proof, to those who need such a thing, how well he loved me. Be it strange or not, I spoke to him on my walk through his white cathedral today. His response was all around me, keeping me warm on this cold, snowy morning.


 KC Kendricks

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