…that you can’t hear it falling. Sitting in bed at the moment listening to the rain hitting the terrific little roof window that my husband installed many years go in our bedroom. It’s a great portal to the wonderful outdoors. Sometimes when the sky is clear we can see a few faithful stars that whisper good night to us and then continue their dance across the sky. At times the moon light serves as a natural nightlight to let us know that all is well with the natural world (well, at least mostly). On nights like these it is somewhat of a temperature indicator. It’s late December and it is warm enough for rain not the snow we would normally have this time of year. During a summer storm the lightning is intensified as it shoots through our window and reflects in the dresser mirror brightening up the room beyond normal. Our little roof window is one of my favorite things about this old house.
But sometimes when it is snowing you can hear the heaviness upon the window. You can hear the coldness in the air. And if you listen close enough you can hear the woods calling, “Come walk with me. Things are quiet and peaceful here. You can hear the crunch of the snow beneath your feet [I wonder what it might be like to go barefoot in the snow] you might even hear your breath or better yet that little voice within.”
The great thing about snow is its silence.
No comments:
Post a Comment