Here comes our single digit winter, descending on us with brisk, stiff winds. The mercury plummets as nature rages outside. No doubt about it, we are privileged to block the buffeting wind out so completely. The roof shakes and the windows rattle. My mind turns to the animals outdoors – a small blanket of snow, groves of trees, and rock outcroppings all make temporary shelters from the wind. They are better adapted to the cold than I. Tomorrow I won’t venture out for long.
It is the first evening of February, now well after dark, and I am cozied up on the couch under blankets while the fire blazes.
And yet, just yesterday in January, I strolled across the prairie in balmy 50 degree weather. How can I capture the tenderness of that moment? It was so very still. I paused to breath and a raven called. It rose out of the pine coulee in front of me and floated overhead, drifting across a patchwork of sky and clouds. The naked prairie was dotted with bright golden snakeweed. Far to the north the Snowy Mountains jutted above the prairie, crystal clear and blanketed in snow. I could see for miles.
At times, I’m cloistered in by the cold and snow. Winter weather takes me on a rollercoaster ride of possibility. Tonight I huddle close to the fire with gratitude.