The night is
clear and cold, and the sidewalks, front and backyard are covered with the first
winter’s snow. Our house stands pretty
much on its own on this side of town; city lights enliven the front courtyard
while a triple row of tall oaks protects the back. A fire pops in the grate, Christmas lights
twinkle in our freshly cut Douglas fir -I better go out and get some more firewood
as our kids one by one, will surely arrive - anytime now.
I can hear
the whistling wind
changing directions, buzzing through double paned windows as I cross the
kitchen towards the back door. The ever present aromas coming from the oven and
pantry enfold my whole being in an elated feeling of home and communion: cinnamon,
cloves, sage and rosemary, the roasting turkey providing the wonderful bouquet
of the season at hand.
Nearing the neatly stacked woodpile, I
select a few logs and as I straighten, the sounds of a slight rustle on the freshly
fallen snow hold me captive in total awareness. I turn quickly to see what it is while
my forehead hits some of the heavily snowed-covered pine branches. There are prints on the lawn. Small hoof prints. I am not aware we have
deer living or foraging nearby; birds for sure, but not deer. Taking a closer look, I see that there’s a string
of prints leading towards the side of the house, as though something has barely
touched down on its way elsewhere. And then, the prints stop, they disappear.
Strange, I think, as I look down toward
the thinly forested area below. With trees in their rustling splendor, and light
snow flakes circling up in the air, there seems to be a definite commotion that
I cannot fathom, or even describe. Stars
twinkle in the early frosted eve, plumes of smoke rise in the sky, the crackling
of bark and branches underfoot, and a melody. Yes, a melody of incredible
sweetness appears to be rising from the forested area into the heavens beyond.
The scent of pine needles, and the
clear night confirm the vast meaning of this season in my heart. The sound
grows weaker … until suddenly it tapers altogether as a light snow begins to
drift upwards, aloft.
As I pace back towards the house, I am
overflowing with a newly-found euphoric emotion for the sense and marvel the
season conveys.
