I woke up this morning to a Michigan winter wonderland. I looked out the window and saw a beautiful blanket of white, small flakes floating down. Lake effect snow. Finally. It's been raining here since the beginning of fall, October 21. So much drudgery. Gray clouds, denuded trees, the fall colors all but wiped out by the constant drizzle and the metal sky. When the sun did come out it was almost an afterthought.
But now, with everything white, the absence of sun makes no difference at all. I look out the window of my den while writing this and see a forest candyland. Sugar covering the branches of the half white trees, the result of gentle winds whispering from the north. The snowflakes small, almost invisible as individuals yet joining to make veils of gossamer drifting to the ground. Lake effect snow is always like that; grains of white, like winter sand slowly covering everything in sight.
I love the white, especially up here. It is so pure and virginal and stays that way all winter. No black and brown covered mounds along the highway, no city slush or dirty grime only snow, white and glistening, just as nature intended. Winter is my favorite season.
And sitting in my recliner, gazing out the glass walls of our living room at the black squirrels leaping and running, standouts against a pure white curtain, I think about peace. A warming fire in the wood stove with the quiet so absolute you can hear your own heartbeat. What pain could there be in the world? What possible distress? Surely the rest of humanity is feeling what I feel. Love. Love has to be white, sweet and comforting, like snow in the wildwoods of the north.
To me, there is no better place to be. Safe and secure in our woodsy wonderland, close to the gentle ripples of the Sweetwater Sea, and far from the worries to the south where discord abounds and the winds of change are blowing.