Winter Wonderland

I have a confession. I love winter storms.

I love driving slowly down ice or snow covered roads and watching the world slip by in a frozen dream. When everything is covered in ice and snow, it is still and perfect. The trees seem frosted over. The ground even and rippling loses all the ugly cuts and bruises underneath its white winter blanket. Even parking lots of big retailers are peaceful when under ice. The cart corals stand tall against the empty plain of frozen tundra.

I love waking up in the morning and looking for those first tracks of the animals who ventured out for food. The paths of criss-crossing rabbit, deer, and coyote tracks tell a story you never get to hear when the ground is bare. Their curious and hesitant tracks up to our front porch and near our windows are endearing. The way they seem to be playing in the midst of the search is almost human. It is so similar to the way we bundle up and brave the elements for an hour of sledding before venturing out to see what is left on the grocer's shelves.

I love driving past parks and seeing the children, exuberant with their day off from school, racing up and down sledding paths. I find myself angry at people who won't just let the children play. The danger of slipping off course into a tree is half the fun of the sport.

I love seeing people out walking their dogs. Most are huddled down inside their hats and scarves, but the rest are in a sort of reverie. They gaze up at the sky and trees. They seem lost in their own thoughts as they look around at the results of the storm. Their pets run in circles and strain to break the leash to chase the scent left on a rabbit or squirrel track.

The days of sleighs and fur coats may well be past. Courier and Ives have long ago become nostalgia. I, however, have found the spirit they tried to capture. It is in the humanity of the people around me as they struggle to deal with a Winter Wonderland.