The hours of snow

It was raining as I drove to pick the kids up from school on Thursday.  Big sloppy rain drops hitting the windshield.  The forecast said it would rain first and then snow, but I found myself a bit skeptical as the rain continued to beat down on the car.  Then I noticed it, the "rain with guts" (which is what Mark calls rain that is beginning to turn into snow).  The guts splattered a bit, tell tale signs of the rain transforming into snow.  By the time I had picked up all three kids the snow had started and the car was filled with conversations about whether the reports would be true and would school indeed cancel for the following day.

Well, snow it did...for hours...and hours...and hours.

I stepped onto the porch around 7:30pm to get more wood for the fireplace and the stillness that comes with the snow greeted me.  It is a quiet that is hard to describe for anyone who hasn't encountered it for themselves.  The flakes falling from the sky and the stillness of the streets as people are hunkered down inside always invites me to stand and soak it all in, despite the cold.  It is a quiet I would like to bottle up and have available at times when the world around me feels loud and chaotic.

We awoke to inches and inches of snow.  Homemade buttermilk waffles, hot coffee and a roaring fire defined the morning.  

The snow stopped mid morning and the first shoveling of the driveway commenced.

The driveway had just finished being completely shoveled as the flakes started falling again.

Mark loaded the kids up to head for the ski slope.

I stayed behind to write and have a few quiet hours alone.

I stood on the porch wrapped in my down blanket, listening to the quiet.

I watched as the snow piled up on the driveway again.

Mark and the kids arrived back home at 8pm.

Steven and I headed back out the driveway, to shovel some more in anticipation of a friend dropping by.

We couldn't scrape the white stuff off fast enough, by the time we quit the space we'd worked on was once again covered with over an inch of snow.

Saturday morning we awoke to this.....

(The bug is just behind the girls, buried in snow.)

The girls were anxious to put on their gear and sled, Mark found the rope and began to pull them down the driveway and off for a ride down the street.

Winter has finally arrived in Michigan, inches and inches of winter.  

I am breathing it in.  Sitting quietly in my leather chair, doing some reading in search of quotes for the writing project I have on my plate this week.

I have been reading back through some of my journals, and books I was reading 3+ years ago.  I am thoughtful, reflective and a bit sober.

I am aware that while it may seem that things change, it is also true that many things repeat themselves.

Mark pulled Katy down the street on a sled 22 years ago in Linthicum, Maryland.

He pulled Katy, Allison and Steven through the streets of our neighborhood in Portland, Oregon 13 years ago.

He is still pulling his own kids today....

 

Comments

[Lib]

This post made me nostalgic for that silence that comes with the snow, which you describe so well in this post. I experienced that during our year in SLC. I loved it. I remember stepping outside for a few minutes so I could hear the silence. I remember sitting at my desk and just watching the snow fall. I do miss all of that. I'm glad you guys are enjoying it all.

[amy aldrich]

Wow...beautiful! Amazing how some thing God brings full-circle...
Just today I stopped and took note of the palm trees everywhere where I am, in shock that my environment is not snowy and cold...missing that, but hoping many sweet memories occur down here too...

[B]

There is so much beauty in this post and in these pictures of Mark and the girls!