Last Saturday, it snowed. Not a lot -- just enough to make everything beautiful. It was fairly early in the morning. Not so early that the sun wasn't fully up, but early enough that no one had braved the roads yet. Undisturbed, pristine snow. Magical snow. I've always loved the way the snow covered the tree branches, and while I have no illusions that I'm Ansel Adams, I was feeling inspired and grabbed my camera to document the beauty before everyday life tainted it.
I've always found snowfalls so beautiful and peaceful, but evening snowfalls in particular have always been magical to me. It is so quiet and peaceful, and even though it's dark, the moonlight's reflection on the snow gives the would a soft glow. It is so quiet, like the world is holding its breath. As a kid, when the opportunity presented itself, I would love to stand outside in the snow. I remember one time sitting on an old-fashioned sled, the kind with the metal blades, and my dad pulling me up the cul-de-sac. For me, it was like a moment out of a Thomas Kinkade painting, and holds a special place in my heart.
See, despite how quiet and still it is, despite the fact that everyone else is tucked safely inside -- or maybe because of all that -- when I stand outside during evening snowfalls, I feel most connected to the world.
That realization reminds me of a yoga session I had back in September. The instructor asked us to lie on our backs, close our eyes, and think of when we felt most connected. At the time I couldn't really think of anything, but I was patient, and now I finally have my answer.
Even now, just thinking of evening snow fills my soul with warmth and peace.
It was definitely worth the wait.
