[My oh my, Plumbelina grew up fast! She’s horse sized now. Giddy up!]
We’ve been socked in here all week long — low clouds and the steady threat of snow. Last night, the world finally turned white again, and the snow hasn’t stopped for an entire day! How lucky am I? So, this afternoon I decided faire du ski, up the mountain from the house. The snow was gentle; I quietly swooped through it, poling strongly and skating smoothly with the dogs chasing me down hill and tangling themselves in my skis when I found myself creeping up the hilly sections. I felt in touch with the Norwegian portion of my heritage. Blond hair in the wind. Salt water sparsely running so carefully down the small of my back…like the sea at the feet of fjords…
I know I tend to wax (eloquently?) on and on about the seasons, and whichever I happen to be experiencing is deemed my favorite and the most thrilling of all, but seriously, I love winter. It might sound strange, but something about it reminds me of the ocean, especially when it’s snowing. The white acts as an insulator and sound seems to travel a fraction of the distance, all is so tremendously quiet. My cheeks light up with roses and I’ve got that living feeling.
I’m adrift. I don’t belong.
I’m enveloped, I’m unfolding.
So many of you love summer, I’m sure. One of my very best friends and I agree that we feel most vivacious in the autumn months, I love the rebirth of spring, I adore elements of the summer months (like gardening and fishing) but winter, winter feels the very best of all on my soul. I try the white on and it fits like a glove. How about you? Would you rather sweat or shiver? Would you rather lay in the sun or coast through the snows?
There’s something so romantic about seeing the sky come down and settle in a smooth blanket on the surface of the earth. I want to roll it back, prop it up on sticks and make a quiet fort of it. There beneath the snow there is blue light, the swing of pendulums, the constant shuffle of crystal lattices waving like sea kelp in currents.
I’m off to whip up a pizza for the brilliant Mister and I
(oh, I love him so…).
Have yourselves a marvelous weekend, dear chickapeeps!
xx
Plume
