"In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous." -Aristotle
Armed with tuna fish sandwiches, raisins and peppermint sticks we ventured out to see the world filled up with snow, to find if anything still lived in the crystal world around us. Our boots crunched through the hardened snow as we tried to find the animals before they were frightened by us. After several sightings and a pit stop where my little one turned the snow yellow, we returned to look up and document our sightings and turn our attention to snow.
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here to watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer to stop without a farmhouse near.
He gives his harness bells a shake to ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promised to keep
And mile to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
The Art of the Snowflake, a Photographic Album by Kenneth Libbrecht is the most beautiful book filled with photographs of snowflakes. I cannot recommend it enough for the curious mind. We devoured it repeatedly then decided to cover our evening table covering with unique works of snowflake art. Thank someone for the marvelous invention of butcher paper. This should last us at least 2 meals. Listen to this quote from the book,
"Under the microscope, I found that snowflakes were miracles of beauty; and it seemed a shame that this beauty should not be seen and appreciated by others. Every crystal was a masterpiece of design, and no one design was ever repeated. When a snowflake melted, that design was forever lost. Just that much beauty was gone, without leaving any record behind." pp. 8Feeling the sunshine on my face, witnessing the majesty of a perfect unique snowflake, listening to the bird calls, silently tracking the goose tracks to the edge of the ice filled my core, my center. Often, in winter, I feel trapped in a world of my own making, unable to go outside, afraid of an asthma attack, wet feet, or cold hands. As my children reverently partook of what their Heavenly Father has waiting for them, even in the seemingly dead winter, just outside their front door, I realized that we had only to look outside ourselves. To step outside our comfort zones to discover that even when all looks dead, there is a great deal of life, but even better, preparation for new life.
This last year, I have felt devoid of life, pushed to and fro by others demands. Perhaps a little crusted over. Today I found that under the wintry crust, new creativity is growing waiting for the appropriate season. Even better, lots of life is going on inside when I look for it. And, like the discoveries of winter, they are more appreciated in their space and sparsity.