Like many of you, I awoke to a blanket of snow yesterday. Despite grousing from some of you about the snow — and accompanying cold — about it being too early or too much, I loved it. It really isn’t that unusual for snowflakes of varying depth by mid-November, especially in the northern sections of the country. I remember significant snow by mid-October in Illinois and New York and, certainly, Maine.
Yes, I’m a snow fan. I’ve come to appreciate it more as I reached retirement age and not necessarily obligated to venture out while the flakes are falling. But even in my younger days, driving in the snow was never stressful for me … and I was on the road during my share of blizzards, squalls and whiteouts. Challenging? Yes! Frightening? No!
The pure white blanket, especially over an open field, always reminds me of a new slate. It covers the muck, dying leaves, less than vibrant green grass.
We have a short window to enjoy the pristine mantle before life gets in the way on the roads and sidewalks. Plows and shovels “clean up,” often leaving mounds of no longer white snow. Footprints, dogprints, and animal tracks dot the landscape. Snowmen and snow forts are constructed.
But, back in the open field or along the river bank with snow draping now barren tree limbs, the white canvas is an inspiration for me. It is a new beginning, one that is replicated with each dusting. I gaze at the sea of white and start imagining what can be … not just there at that spot, but in life in general.
I’ll take a clean slate any time I can get it.
THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Zip-a-dee-doo-dah … zip-a-dee-ay! My, oh my, what a wonderful day. Plenty of sunshine heading my way! [And a little bit of pure white snow as well!]