Quiet times. Days are short and snow is deep outside my window. The earth is muffled and cold. My eyes grow heavy early in the evening, and beg to stay closed in the frosty mornings. I don’t struggle, but surrender. More sleep, warm clothes, hearty food, less movement. There is magic in this inward time - every year I feel it. Some things are amplified when all of nature is subdued and quiet.
Today, while driving down a winding, snow covered road - I saw two figures moving through the snow ahead. I passed, in slow motion, and I noticed they were Amish boys - probably about 14-15 years old walking down the road. It was blustery - another lake effect storm that had been predicted. Every square inch was covered in deep pillowy snow. Big flakes fell softly and abundantly - the temps in the low teens (lower when you factor in wind chill). They wore simple black wool coats, straw hats and gloves. The contrast of their black clothing in the all-white landscape was striking and a little dream-like.
I passed very slowly and glanced at them out the side window, expecting to see bitterness or struggle in their windblown faces.
The first boy had turned to look back at his companion - smiling and robust. His simple wool coat was covered with snow, and his gloved had was reaching back toward his friend in a friendly way. (Is this the boy on the horse that inspired such wonder in an earlier post?)
As I passed, I looked in the rearview mirror to see the figures softly blurred by the falling snow, finally to disappear into the milkyness, and was overcome with emotion.
Was it a memory spurred by the woolen black coat dusted in white snow? Or was it the smile on the boys face, when at the gas station in town earlier that day, folks dressed warmly with warm cars awaiting them were frowning and complaining? My eyes just filled with tears without any sad or sappy thoughts to accompany them. They just did - one fleeting moment - here and gone.
Other feelings replaced it: Nervousness at driving in the wintry weather, confidence as the snow let up, happiness at the thought of going home to a warm fire and bowl of soup, sadness at the thought of an upcoming surgery a loved one is facing. Feelings and emotions coming and going just as quickly as the snowflakes floating past my window.
I didn’t ponder too much more - but the image remains with me like a sleepy dream. I'll hold onto it until it falls away from my awareness, when I will be open to the next magic moment that rises up out the snow.
~j
