The snow gods have been unkind to our favorite mountain spots so far this winter, but Saturday brought our first few inches of the new year. A few inches of snow is the difference between what's the point? and wheeeee! A few inches of snow makes everything new again.
Here the snow is too dry to even make a decent snowball. Every single flake holds its distinct shape. I was the first one on the cross-country trail yesterday morning, and the snow fluttered and parted around my skis as the sun broke through the morning clouds. The snow is still too shallow to cover the remains of the summer grasses, and it's too light to weigh them down. How much does a snowflake weigh? I skied past a dead tree that fell last week. Was there one snowflake that did the deed? The tree just couldn't take the weight of one more snowflake?
I wonder if this is how moods work. Life piles on, and you're strong, but one imperceptible thing you probably don't even notice gets added to the load and suddenly you're sinking under the weight of it.
For a while now I've craved silence. I've turned off the radio, except for the classical station occasionally. I put all the CDs away. The cacophony of kids over the holidays actually hurt. I sit every morning and meditate in the dark, feasting on the quiet.
But I noticed this weekend that my ears are hungry. I want headphones, and dancing around the house, and singing loud.
This feels good. This feels like coming back.