Winter in Maine. As unpredictable as a five year old. I pulled on my coat, hat and gloves this morning, then put a coat on the dogs and headed out for our morning walk. It had been snowing off and on all night and as we stepped into the driveway, we were immediately met by big, soft, white flakes. It has been snowing ever since and is rumored to continue all day.
I was struck by the beauty that surrounded us. A lack of wind had provided a perfect canvas for a winter scene to be created. Every tree branch had been painted with snow and their skeletal structures stood demanding my attention. Especially the birches that, combined with their white barked trunks, were particularly spectacular. Passing cars could be seen before heard, hushed by the frozen cushion. The stillness of the air gave the impression that mother nature had turned off the sound.
My dogs love the snow, so a short walk was out of the question. They both reveled in the soft, dry powder that covered the streets. There was an urgency to their gait not normally seen, testing the limits of their leash, urging me to walk faster, joining them in exploration. Like colts in a pasture, they played with uninhibited pleasure.
I don’t know what there is about days like this. They make me feel so alive. The cold air on my face coloring my cheeks, tiny snowflakes gently tickling my lashes. The resistance of the snow as you take each booted step. It was as if it were just me enjoying this gift of nature. All else hidden by the flakes that shrouded the horizon. Like standing in a giant snow globe, staring out at the rest of the world. At that moment, nothing else existed. This symphony of sight had been created just for me. I had captured the beauty of this winters morn, or more correctly, it had captured me?