Outside, the snow blankets everything. Christmas lights blink on and off through the storm, silent witnesses to the still night, to that one night a year when everything transforms from salt-stained grey to picturesque.
I went for a run at lunch today and delighted in the slanting snow, the hazy winter sun shining through it, the smiles on the other runners’ faces which said, in my mind anyway, “This is how we play.” I love winter running, just as – or because – I love the snow. The more snow, the more jubilant I feel, it’s the way I imagine kids feel as they turned out into a wonderland, into freedom, after weeks of being cooped up inside.
I have tried all week to write my usual challenge entries but all that was in my heart was the wonder and happiness of the first days of snow (and my son’s book report, which is probably more of a distraction than the snow). So, I am giving in and writing about winter instead of all the other things I started out trying to want to say. Maybe I will return to concentrated writing next week.
It takes a lot of snow days for me to tire of it, to grow jaded and start complaining. I suppose I will lose this feeling of exhilaration at some point. But that’s months down the road. The canal isn’t even open for skating yet and I haven’t had my first ski. There’s so much winter waiting, so much to do, so much to take in!