Writers Workshop Thursday: Winter Memories

It's interesting to me that I have seasonal affective disorder considering that all my childhood winter memories are good ones. We always had good snows and at least 4 or 5 snow days. There were tunnels to build, angels to make and hills to sled. I do remember one particular day where the full on wonder and beauty of a perfect snow enveloped a certain child.

I could not have been more than 9 or 10. When I was that age there was still room for childlike wonder. I remember my snow suit was navy blue. My jacket may have been as well but I do remember it had a hood. I was alone, no L or T for some reason and I went out in to a new fallen snow. I always loved the quiet of the snow. I still am not exactly sure what it is about snow that creates that quiet stillness. I walked out the back door into the yard. The tire swing had snow on the top and on the inside of the bottom. I walked past it, noticing it but not touching it. It was so still and seemed frozen and not at the same time. I walked into the 'big' woods through the arching branches of the long gone lilacs. I walked to the stream. We always liked stepping in the stream in the winter when we had boots on. There was something magical about it being so cold out but still able to step in the freezing cold water without fear of frostbite and let it run past you. I still don't know what it is. I stood in the stream for a bit and then followed the deer path a ways deeper into the woods.

In the other seasons this area is teaming with life be it two or four footed or insect variety but when it snowed, even the birds and squirrels put away their chatter for awhile. I walked to a clearing that you would not have noticed in the other seasons but now in winter, with all the leaves gone, there was a circle of twig bushes and small trees creating an almost walled enclosure. I went in and laid in the snow. I was warm in my snowgear and I stared at the sky. As I lay there, I began to see everything in a clear and sharp light; the color of the twigs against the silvery grayness of the sky, the shadow of the snow drifts against the sparkling white of the light exposed areas. I could hear the stream along the stones and the branches rub against each other. Slowly, it started to snow again. I watched the flakes curl down and settle with the rest of the whiteness. There was no wind, no breeze and they just floated where they pleased. I felt like I was a part of it all, not just a spectator.

I am not sure how long I stayed but eventually the magic was broken by the thought that it was snowing again and maybe I should go inside. I have always remembered this time as one of the best moments in my life. It was what I think it would have been like to be inside a snow globe.