We had our first snow and it couldn’t be any better. The specific light, the smell, the feeling when you breathe in the fresh air.
I stand up early, prepare the stove fire, take my camera and immediately leave the warmth of the house. Strangely I don’t meet anyone on my walks. It seems people here are rather less enamoured of misty weather or snow. The playground is fully mine. It’s early enough to meet deer and flocks of starlings that are chattering in the naked treetops and every now and then the call of a crow rings out. The bright mantle of snow uncovers paths in the forest that normally are not accessible, because of all the wild bushes and trees with dense foliage that block the view in the warmer seasons. I don’t feel the frostiness, because I am fully in the now, when I take my walks and focus on the magic of ever transforming nature. No signs of stress or suffering anywhere – devotion and serenity as far as the eye can reach.
Silently I feel all winters in me that I ever lived. I want to crawl under the blanket of snow, reach my hands up to the sky, let myself drift. There is no aim or definable purpose that I claim to be mine. There is no me in myself. Out there, I dissolve in a truly otherworld. Far away from every thing.
☙