Circle in the snow
As Asha and I walk along the snowy trail under a clear blue sky and late winter sun, what my friend Cora calls treasures call to me – a beech twig, an oak leaf, a strip of birch bark, a hemlock cone. I stop, pick them up and when I sense I’ve gathered enough, look for a flat-ish stretch of snow for my canvas.
Today I start with an acorn. Then four twigs radiating from this center point, followed by oak and beech leaves between the twigs. The circle wants something more, so I scatter some birch bracts and seeds on top.
The woods give me so much, generously allowing me to walk in their beauty, to marvel, to be with and explore my thoughts. I want them to know that I don’t take them for granted.
“Thank you, Woods,” I say, leaving this temporary gift, a small offering of gratitude.
Snow: Beyond shoveling
On the first morning of going out into the snow with Cora, who loves to eat it with a side of icicles, I realized it had been such a long time since I’d played in the snow, since I’d done more than shovel snow, walk on it, trudge through it, and slip on it, or admire falling flakes through a window. Her snow-joy was contagious.
Me (age fifty-six): prepare for a power outage, move the car into the garage, watch, shovel, walk, slip
Cora (age two and a half):
squeeze, sprinkle, toss, throw
eat
ball, mound
eat
scoop, dig, tunnel
eat
slide, jump, belly flop, roll
Cora and me:
laugh
Returning
After several days of walking along roads, I’m so happy to be back in the woods with Asha this morning. I’ve missed the company of these trees and feel renewed by a walk off leash among them in gently falling snow.
I lie down in a clearing of sorts, letting large flakes fall on me and enjoying this new perspective.
Asha gives me a “Let’s go” lick.
“Just a minute,” I say and make a snow angel.
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