Snow Days

It has snowed a lot in Kingston over the past week as in many other places. I love the snow. I love how it makes indoor spaces brighter on gray days (and we have had many of those with gray days far outnumbering sunny ones). I love how snow can seem to make everything quieter, especially during those days and times of days when there are already not so many people driving cars around. I love the sound of snow crunching under foot while walking (a phenomenon reserved usually for crisper, colder days). I love snowmen and snow forts, long stretches of pristine fields and forests covered in glistening snow. I love the moon on the snow and colourful mittens that go with snow–especially hand-made ones. I love snow angels and the giddiness that can come alive in snow as commonly witnessed in children and dogs though something that has also been elicited in adults as I have observed, for example, among colleagues at work in the wonder and dazzle in their chatter and expressions after a particularly beautiful falling of snow.

A tip I might offer to anyone who feels the excitement of snow but finds they often hold back from enjoying it: acquire snowpants. Uninsulated or insulated, they are, in my opinion, a *must* for any adult wardrobe where snow is part of the climate. They make being in the snow much more pleasant and fun. They also serve as a gateway to filling the lands with snow angels, as one example. When you have snowpants, it is much easier to follow the impulse to lie down in the snow, start up your wings (quoting Kat Goldman here from her album, sing your song), and enjoy the peacefulness and expanse of sky. When you have snowpants, it is much easier to leave that unmistakable, magical imprint of flying, icon of life and hope for all who may pass by.

That there has been a lot of snow lately means that there has also been a lot of shoveling. After the last large snowfall, I realized as I began to shovel that my body was still physically tired after the previous shoveling adventures. I realized that I was going to have to complete the task a bit at a time with breaks in between, which made me think of that theme of perseverance bit by bit, one small step at a time. I did. Thankfully, it all worked out just fine. I might mention here, however, words from my 80-plus year old neighbour last weekend one evening when she was shoveling her walk in the midst of a LARGE snowfall and I went over to help her. After a few minutes, she essentially indicated that what we had done (what she had done mostly) was enough for today. Tomorrow is another day, she said and I thought, yes. God willing, good luck, and me doing my part–yes indeed.

As I look out my window right now, I see a series of snow ploughs and sanders have parked across the street from my house–tea time, perhaps–and also that there are thousands of white velvet flakes falling from the grand expanse of gray sky, each one completely unique, each one completely its own entity, all coming together to glisten and dazzle the heart, soften the harsh sounds, and brighten the land once again.

Winter tip number two: a snow shovel is a very good investment.

Kind, warm, bright regards,

tracy