We’ve had a lot of snow lately. That’s a bit of an understatement really. We’ve had more than a lot of snow in the past week or so – and it’s snowing out now. I looked outside a while ago and thought, “Hmm, is it snowing or simply wind blowing it off the roof?” Within a few minutes, the gentle flakes had escalated to a greater flow from above and it’s snowing in earnest now.
Perhaps because I’m not greatly disadvantaged by the snow – no shoveling really (thank god for strong sons, even with just one at home still, and the kindness of a neighbor with a snowblower), the ability to work from home in inclement weather and a warm home – I don’t mind it. I live in New Hampshire and I expect it to snow. It’s when it doesn’t that it doesn’t feel right.
I’m not an outdoorsy person. I enjoy a quiet walk in the woods, sitting outside reflecting on what’s around me, but I don’t seek out activities in the winter outdoors. I’m content to be inside, watching what’s happening outside. While some are energized, ready to hit the slopes or commune with nature in the icy cold, I tend to draw inward, a hibernation of sorts, become a bit more introspective and happily ensconced inside my home.
I am grateful, particularly in the winter, grateful for the comforts that are available to me this time of year. Appreciative of warmth, appreciative of reliable transportation that carries me safely on snow-covered roads, appreciative of the work my son does to keep our driveway and walkways clear, appreciative of a small, but comfortable, home that shelters me against the winter chill, and appreciative of the lighter, fluffier snow that hasn’t created a loss of power yet for us this year (yes, I’m knocking wood as I write this).
Some nights, much like this, I am on the couch, a hand-knit blanket across my lap, candles lit throughout the house. Mr. Fitzgerald, our gray tiger cat, is curled up not far away. The dogs are asleep, one on his bed and the other in her basket. Two more cats are snuggled downstairs, enjoying the warmth of the furnace. Snow falls gently outside and although I can no longer see the grill on our deck and the snow measures at over a foot on the top rail alone, I know I should perhaps feel some concern over how high the snow sits on the deck and roof. Yet, it feels comforting, insulating really, as it blankets the house and yard – and I’m going to enjoy the sense of peace it brings.