"The meadows and far-sheeted streams
Lie still without a sound;
Like some soft minister of dreams
The snow-fall hoods me round;
In wood and water, earth and air,
A silence everywhere."
Excerpted from the song "Snow," by Loreena McKennet
Snow is falling steadily, determinedly, boldly. It's been falling for the past 48 hours or more. It's made our world soft and fluffy. It's made our world quiet. It's made our world insanely beautiful. I feel like I'm living a Robert Frost poem. I love it.
Funny. December is the darkest month with the shortest days of the year and I have come to find that it is my favorite month. Especially when it snows.
Esther and Isla love the snow too. Isla stood on the kitchen bench this morning and just stared quietly out the window at the floating flakes. Esther is digging holes, making angels and commenting on the lovely, soft silence.
She's at her friends house now. I escorted her down there through the meadow and down the steep hill that leads to their house. I was on skis and she walked, pulling her sled behind her. Once we got to the hill she got into the sled and let me pull her. The village below, through the falling snow, looked fake. Like a picture book.
I've skied up the road twice in the past two days. The snow is almost too deep to navigate in the meadows, but the roads are perfect. That is until the maintenance guys show up with their truck full of dirt and sand. Then all is ruined.
Until another hour or two later when another fresh coat of powdery bliss is applied. Vermont, like this, is like no other place. I'm feeling lucky and grateful again. Oprah would be proud.