So much talk about snow coming and storms brewing lately. This winter has kept so many glued to the TV. The weather becomes the news about once every two weeks. When will the first flake fall? How many inches will we get? Snowdrifts and black ice... Snow days and cars off the road - oh my.
Standing in the pitch black forest up in Stowe one night last week (while waiting for the dogs to do their thing) the wind blew through the brittle winter trees. It was a beautiful sound. The dogs crunched through the snow. My slow heavy breathing grew slower and heavier.
It was a peaceful moment and all I could think about was back in the day.
Long before hype overshadowed a snowstorm, and forecasters one-upped each other with predictions and estimates - what did that cold wind blowing and first few drops of snow mean to people? Did they wonder how much would come, or how long the snow would last? Did they look to the threatening clouds and think, I wonder if I have enough milk? Or This is going to be a real pain in the neck to shovel.
Back when there were modest wooden homes nestled deep in the woods, way back to when teepees dotted the horizon...what did a snowstorm bring with it?
I picture people looking up to the sky with a grateful indifference then sauntering back to the coziness of their home wrapped up in layers of fur and sipping steaming cups of tea for days on end.
If you listen to the cold wind blowing, that is what it sounds like it is telling us all to do.
Relax.
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