Wintry

Meandering down a wooded path on my husband's arm, absorbing the beauty of this wintry, fresh snowed paradise, finds me in the only place I want to be in this moment. As we walk along slowly I can feel the roughness of his wool coat brush my cheek as I turn to look up at him and tell him how beautiful this day is to me. We walk to a familiar park, but on an unfamiliar path. The discovery makes life new again. Around each bend treasures wait, and every time it surprises me to find the beauty of nature in a city.

I grew up in the countryside, miles away from even a small town, so finding a breathtaking path by a stream or through the trees seems miraculous.

The wooden fence along this particular stream has almost two inches of snow balancing on its ledge. The stream is a dark shadowy color in late afternoon with only an hour or so before darkness envelops it, and the snow white trees on its bank create a breathtaking contrast.

My husband waits excitedly for me to catch up with him so he can show me where the stream makes a turn and goes straight through an avenue of snow covered branches hanging over the very cold, gently gurgling water. The rocks in the middle of the stream have snow white hats, undisturbed by the days events. The snow rests on even the most delicate of branches, as though practicing a balancing act. All is still, and I feel like I am in a painting, frozen in time for the last two hundred years. A day of such beauty and transformation beckons the eyes and the soul to gaze and reflect. The temporary nature of this beauty is what makes time stand still for me. I know that it is only a matter of days before the sun or the rain will melt the snow away, transforming it back to what it was. Then spring will take its turn of redecorating, and the wonder will return.