It's a wonderful life.
I enjoy all things beautiful. But beautiful could come in so many shapes, designs, sounds, and colors. I am blessed, truly, to have the eyes to see, the ears to hear, hands to feel , palate to taste, and soul to enjoy what this earth calls magnificent and beautiful. But, I especially enjoy the beauty of a landscape blanketed with snow. I know to some, each season is associated with events and may bring back memories that are joyous, sorrowful and of course everything in between. It seems that snow has been on my trail as far as my faint and vague memory can trace back to the years past. Perhaps, it is because of the two years I spent in Wisconsin during the two years my father did his work?. We were surrounded by a winter landscape the entire duration of the season. My regular activity involved sledding down the snowy hill behind our home with neighborhood children or my parents. I vividly remember the snowy surroundings where I thrived attempting to speak a foreign language, supposedly making new friends, even though I hardly remember any specifics of our lives in Wisconsin at all. The University housing in Madison, WI is where my family lived between 1968 to 1970. I wonder if it is possible that my brain was wired to be in the winter land then. The sound of falling snowflakes, the stillness of the air, the squeaky noise coming from snow pressed under my pink boots boots all seem so familiar, although, my memory often doesn't contain anybody I recognize in it.
Since I have been married, our path has taken us primarily through the southern states where snow, the kind you can sled on only come sporadically or none at all.
A few years after we moved to Louisiana from Nashville, I had an experience that I was uncertain where it come from. I still can not explain it in any intelligent terms. There was such a thirst for snow in me one December that I felt like I was dying inside and it made me tearful seeing the Temp gauge pointing to the 60's and 70's. Blooming flowers on my deck did not brighten me but added to the reality of how far away I was from my snow. I felt something that I would describe it as close to what my therapist friend would call depression. The feeling only grew worse as December progressed. With only a few days left before Christmas, we made a last minute decision to drive all the way to the northern Michigan as soon as my work commitment was completed in Louisiana on the 27th. As soon as I finished the 24 hour shift in the morning, we hurried north. I fell asleep in the car while my husband drove dreaming that I would wake up surrounded by snow. I still remember the first patch of snow I saw later that day on the side of the road when we approached Chicago. As we advanced our way north, patches became a cover, then a blanket. Even a blizzard welcomed us on the way which forced us to stop for a while. It was probably only me in the whole wide world who stood outside in the blizzard and watched all the snow fall from the sky. Next morning, we continued on north where as far as the landscape stretched, everything was in white shimmer leaving all other colors left to our imagination. Nothing was left uncovered with snow after the blizzard the previous night. I was in the winter wonderland. I did not realize until then that the peculiar darkness over me had lifted and what I felt was the warm ray of sun brightly shining though the clouds reflecting against every snowflake on the ground. The reflection was displaying an incredible sparkle. The famous, Cullinan diamond seemed dull comparing with the intensity of the beauty.
A year ago early September, I literally locked myself in my father's office for days and hours sorting through the pile of papers, books, and notes that he left for us to clear away. I came across a brown envelope and many small plastic zip lock bags with old photos. One of the photos in the envelope was of my father, still young in his mid thirties, carrying my baby brother in his arms with a little girl next to him tugging along. Based on the age and the appearance of my brother, I suspect that I was barely three. Of course, I do not remember the moment or the circumstance but it is one of the few photos of us three taken while living in Wisconsin. I missed my father with a heart of a pre-schooler that I had left somewhere along my path, but I felt soothed knowing that we had that moment together. When I closed my eyes, I could feel the quiet Wisconsin forest hushed with snow.
We all have places that we call home and our hearts have a scene that makes it feel at home. The scene has always been associated with snow. For others, it could be a beach life, or maybe rugged mountains. As my son grew older, I have noticed his love for winter wonderland. The mere mention of going up north to a snow country intensifies brightness in his eyes. Trying on the jacket and boots from last year making sure that they still fit was quite an exciting ordeal.
To think that I almost ruined his love for snow by one accident scare he witnessed several years ago, is pretty scary. I could never do that to him again. Thankfully, the memory seems to be fading. I need to keep my winter buddy.
So, I hope it is OK that I crave snowy scene in the winter. Let me have it and I will somehow get through the scorching heat and sauna climate. You can hang on to a lot of things when you have snow at the end of the tunnel. My Norwegian friends would probably say I am crazy. Maybe I am. But I am convinced, the chills in the air on an winter night with a bright moon shining on the snow covered ground is better than Zoloft. But what do I know? I have never tried Zoloft.
A few years after we moved to Louisiana from Nashville, I had an experience that I was uncertain where it come from. I still can not explain it in any intelligent terms. There was such a thirst for snow in me one December that I felt like I was dying inside and it made me tearful seeing the Temp gauge pointing to the 60's and 70's. Blooming flowers on my deck did not brighten me but added to the reality of how far away I was from my snow. I felt something that I would describe it as close to what my therapist friend would call depression. The feeling only grew worse as December progressed. With only a few days left before Christmas, we made a last minute decision to drive all the way to the northern Michigan as soon as my work commitment was completed in Louisiana on the 27th. As soon as I finished the 24 hour shift in the morning, we hurried north. I fell asleep in the car while my husband drove dreaming that I would wake up surrounded by snow. I still remember the first patch of snow I saw later that day on the side of the road when we approached Chicago. As we advanced our way north, patches became a cover, then a blanket. Even a blizzard welcomed us on the way which forced us to stop for a while. It was probably only me in the whole wide world who stood outside in the blizzard and watched all the snow fall from the sky. Next morning, we continued on north where as far as the landscape stretched, everything was in white shimmer leaving all other colors left to our imagination. Nothing was left uncovered with snow after the blizzard the previous night. I was in the winter wonderland. I did not realize until then that the peculiar darkness over me had lifted and what I felt was the warm ray of sun brightly shining though the clouds reflecting against every snowflake on the ground. The reflection was displaying an incredible sparkle. The famous, Cullinan diamond seemed dull comparing with the intensity of the beauty.
A year ago early September, I literally locked myself in my father's office for days and hours sorting through the pile of papers, books, and notes that he left for us to clear away. I came across a brown envelope and many small plastic zip lock bags with old photos. One of the photos in the envelope was of my father, still young in his mid thirties, carrying my baby brother in his arms with a little girl next to him tugging along. Based on the age and the appearance of my brother, I suspect that I was barely three. Of course, I do not remember the moment or the circumstance but it is one of the few photos of us three taken while living in Wisconsin. I missed my father with a heart of a pre-schooler that I had left somewhere along my path, but I felt soothed knowing that we had that moment together. When I closed my eyes, I could feel the quiet Wisconsin forest hushed with snow.
We all have places that we call home and our hearts have a scene that makes it feel at home. The scene has always been associated with snow. For others, it could be a beach life, or maybe rugged mountains. As my son grew older, I have noticed his love for winter wonderland. The mere mention of going up north to a snow country intensifies brightness in his eyes. Trying on the jacket and boots from last year making sure that they still fit was quite an exciting ordeal.
To think that I almost ruined his love for snow by one accident scare he witnessed several years ago, is pretty scary. I could never do that to him again. Thankfully, the memory seems to be fading. I need to keep my winter buddy.
So, I hope it is OK that I crave snowy scene in the winter. Let me have it and I will somehow get through the scorching heat and sauna climate. You can hang on to a lot of things when you have snow at the end of the tunnel. My Norwegian friends would probably say I am crazy. Maybe I am. But I am convinced, the chills in the air on an winter night with a bright moon shining on the snow covered ground is better than Zoloft. But what do I know? I have never tried Zoloft.
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