Then Snow, Now Cold

Snow yesterday, piling up in deep feathery drifts as quickly as we could lift it out of the way, a steady downward pouring of great fleecy snowflakes obscuring rooflines, paths and commonplace shapes - the falling snow muffled sounds everywhere in the village, and there was a lovely stillness in the street. I paused in my shoveling and sweeping to take in the silence of the day. I caught snowflakes on my tongue, and the day was so quiet that one could actually hear snow coming to rest on the chimney bricks.

This morning, there's a blush of sunlight on the horizon and a fine pearly translucent light falling over the garden, yesterday's snowfall blanketing the dark trees and cedar fence rails like a down comforter and piled up in arty rounded shapes against the old garden shed.

It's cold here, -25 (Celsius) at the moment, and smoke from the village chimneys is rising straight up into the early blue. The temperature is falling fast and a low icy wind is howling through the eaves and around corners, but there is a peaceful feeling today, a clear sense that we have (at last) come to the place where we should be dwelling when late January knocks at the door. Cold or not, here is my hearth and my homeplace, my temenos - here is the hallowed ground on which I have chosen to stand and bloom (if I may) in this lifetime.