Snow Day!

     We had a perfect snowfall this past Sunday. It was a large storm by Virginia standards and it left us with somewhere between fourteen to eighteen inches of fluffy, sparkling, perfect-for-packing, snow. I am contented that, at my age, a snowfall is still magical. It makes my insides leap with joy and excitement to anticipate its arrival, see it falling, and know what activities it brings.
     This snowfall began overnight as we slept. Perfect magic snowstorms begin this way so that when you wake up and look out the window, BAM! there it is. It came down softly but steadily and I went from window to window gauging its depth near trees and landscape as it piled up. Everything about the day slowed down to a peaceful pace. All events were cancelled and only the sturdiest of vehicles could have made it up our mountain. We were shut inside under a blanket that absorbed all sound. The heavy clouds created a weak, gray light such that we left reading lamps on and candles flickering all day. (If only we had a fireplace!) We lit the wood stove in the basement and I roasted a few marshmallows while I toasted my toes near the fire on and off throughout the day. I made soup, I hooked on a rug, we read a lot, and we looked out the windows. There was no need to do a thing nor even contemplate shoveling snow until it stopped falling, which wouldn't be until the next day. Some might consider this confinement but I call it freedom.
     Who would think there could be so much beauty in a simple black and white landscape? The snow wipes out all the details in the grass and field, thereby improving the details visible everywhere else. We now know the movements of the deer at night because we can see their tracks crisscrossing the fields and notice the congregation of tracks under the cedars where they must bed for the night. The birds are more visible darting from tree to tree. Some tracks leave me guessing as to what animal may have been running or leaping by the looks of it. Every little sound is suddenly amplified by the silence of everything else.
     Tomorrow will bring the sun and the job of digging out. But, for this day, the snow has given us permission to do not a thing. Simply enjoy.