Softly, gently the fluffy flakes fall, melting on the ground at first, then holding their shape. As night turns to dawn, the world becomes a sea of white. Silent. So silent. The only sound is the thump of snow as it gets too heavy for a tree branch and drops to the ground below. Maybe, there's the crunch of feet making white footprints out to the chicken pen. As the sun rises, millions of tiny diamond facets twinkle like stars on the earth. Winter magic!
In western Oregon, snow is so infrequent, we just stop everything and hold still until it's gone. This week has been a snowy wonderland on the tiny farm. I have deeply enjoyed the silence. There is no one to talk to but my dogs. Even they are too much movement and chaos at times. For me, this year is about holding still...touching in...waiting.
I'm finding this snow to be particularly welcome. In the silence, I can deeply appreciate the beauty. I can breathe in the chilly air tinged with fireplace smoke. The repetition of farm chores - feeding animals, hauling wood, building fires, and picking green vegetables is rich with self-care.
The days of stillness make the quiet feel deeper. The body feels contained. The soul feels well. Tiny moments feel vast like the white fields outside. Yesterday, I drove past a hazelnut orchard that was so beautiful in the snow, I felt true awe. I never wanted the moment to end. The snow whispers sweetly to my soul, "Be here. Be still. Be well."
...and I am so so still inside. Shhhhhhh...
