There is a calm on a winter morning, a quiet before the now begins to fall. The gray sky is dark and yet light at the same time, the clouds filled with the soft white flakes that will soon drift over the landscape. Snow has always had a sound of its own. When I was a child I always knew when the snow arrived in the night, the usual stillness replaced by something I still find hard to explain. Soon the trees will be draped in white, the pines bending under the weight of the first snow of the season. December has arrived indeed, first with cold frosty air and now a predicted foot of snow.
This year I am savoring the season, delighting in the lights others have put outside, listening to good music and taking in an energy that seems to surround me. That energy fills me and reminds me to listen only to myself and to what I feel deep within. My words flow this morning but there are too many and so they collide in their efforts to be heard. I think today I will sit with them, jotting them down here and there and then perhaps I will be able to organize them enough to put some of them here. It will be a quiet day for such things, the gentle quiet of snow, the whisper of the earth as it drifts to sleep under a blanket of white.