Here there be dragons...

"I'm telling you stories. Trust me." - Winterson

When snow falls, listen quietly

Just took Sasha for the most amazing nighttime snow walk.  It's night, but not dark, as the Christmas and street lights reflect off the unbroken blanket on the ground and cause each individual falling flake to shimmer briefly on its descent.  Even the unlit path through the woods is bright enough to navigate easily.  The silence is broken occasionally by the sound of a far off car sliding, but otherwise is absolute.  The kind of silent that grants imagination free rein to wander as it will.

This is Sasha's favourite weather and she was super excited to be out in it, although sadly I couldn't let her play as when she plays she barks and it's too late for that.  So we just walked and I worked very hard not to accidentally kick snow in her direction as that is, in fact, her absolute favourite game and the fastest way to have a very loud, very excited, hiking partner.  And in the stillness of the night that energy would carry far, but is unlikely to make us any friends.

The stunning houses along the lake are that much more impressive decorated for Christmas -- sometimes outdoor lights shining through a filter of white, sometimes a tree lit up in the window.  A cat peers out, seemingly questioning our sanity.  He's not wrong, but the sane miss so many wonderful adventures ;)

As we return home, the prints we left on the way out have already vanished.  Sasha tries to convince me this means we haven't gone yet. Not a single person or critter have we seen, but a tree creaks ominously under the weight it now bears.

The child inside me chooses to build a snowman to stand guard outside our home.  Alas, while super willing to "help", Sasha also feels this is a full volume activity, so it must quickly be abandoned.  Perhaps tomorrow if the adult reality of shovelling doesn't steal the fun and romance from the scene.  We shall see.

It looks to be cold for the next few days, which any other week of the year would have me hibernating.  But right now it means we could very well have a white Christmas, and, well, that is where great stories begin.


Post a Comment