Posts Tagged ‘Snow’

First snow of the season, hugging tree, street, and sidewalk.

Shuffling westward, ankle deep, the sidewalk snow was pristine.  Cars and trucks lumbered by inches away, but the blemish-free snow underfoot made for undiscovered country in the most common of places.

Several blocks on, I came upon an east-going traveler.  Bundled more expertly than me against the temps and terrain, she walked the same print-dash-print-dash as me, a Morse code trail heading the opposite direction.

When we crossed paths, my cheery greeting was met with a smile.  Thereafter I did something I usually only think about–I walked in the footsteps of someone else.

The print-dash-print was longer than mine.  Walking in her tracks, already forged, made for easier walking.  But in the exchange, the unbroken potential had disappeared.  The snow, both ridged and flattened, was defined, in a glance it was, rather than what it could be.

Walking forward I unwound her past, reliving steps already in her memory–just as she was likely inhabiting mine.

I turned off on a side street. Our paths diverged. My eyes, not my feet, traced the path of her westward past. A forecast for incoming waves of snow will clear the canvas for the next travelers coming this way.


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Winter Garden

A blanket lies over the garden, crusty white.

What remains standing, in glorious decline, is known as the winter garden. But I know better.

Beneath the snow, in the ground, microbe and mulch, root and rot, the crowns of spring sleep.

Protected from upheaval, they shelter. Gathering, to push forth when light lingers longer.

Real strength rests below, embroidered with the deceit of decay above.  Winter garden.

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Snow finally showed.  Wet and heavy, courtesy of El Nino somewhere in the equatorial Pacific.

On Walkabout, the sidewalk was somewhere under the tide.  Snow plows hurled slush upon the compacted snow.  A frothy wave permanently rested on its beach.

Like any beachcomber, I left only footprints to mark my passage.  Soon they will melt too.


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Snowy day on Walkabout.

Snow plows push through, leaving streets that are sheets of ice. Easier for cars, harder for pedestrians.

Walking the route twice this time, I find snowfall eased the slick.  Erased the bald ice and laid down enough texture to get a foothold.

Good intention sometimes makes things tough.  Traction. Given the chance, Nature finds ways to get you through.

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Night Air

Eternity is out tonight, crowding empty streets.

Time’s arrow, the young turn elderly, generations blend, age, pass.

Unnoticed except by some in the larger moments.

Perhaps it is the snowflakes.  Countless souls against the night sky.

Something in the air, eternity is out tonight.

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Returning from Walkabout in untrammeled snow.  Turning, I saw my footprints.  Medium size, not uncommon.

Sand, snow or earth, footprints do not last long.  A mark, a measure of where we have been, a pace held and gone.

Some like to leave their mark, or wish they made a bigger mark.  Footprints wear away.  It is the thing that cannot be seen, memories of the walk, that persist.

Footprints do not last, I do not mind.

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Anonymous souls are out tonight, on the road, in stores, in their homes.  Gather tradition close, loved ones closer, the depth in this night draws near.

If presents be had, they are opened, old wounds fare the same.  For those who observe Christmas, or did at one time, this is a night when years pass by in the air.  They lightly brush the face just enough to be noticed before moving slowly on.

Where I am, there is snow, quiet, icy in places, fresh in others.  Life is like that.

Eternity is an effective leveler, anonymous souls are out tonight.

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A distance drive on a stormy day.  Horizontal snow blows across the road from the right, changing direction midstream.  Roadway breathes with snaking, vaporous snow, flowing before my car like a tide.  Mesmerizing.

Wind hits from the left, the entire works blows into opaque cloud as an oncoming semi passes within feet.  Zero visibility.

Flat light, socked in storm, taillights obscured by snow.  Drift after drift, snow headed to earth. No where to go but forward–or off the road.

On a sunny day, driving this road is thoughtless.  Wild but still beautiful, this side of Nature commands full attention.

Home again, garage door closing slowly shuts out the storm.  Glad to be inside looking out.

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